I LIBRARY OF CONGRESS.? 



tp^n? |oF>inghifo t 

$ — '■ 

^UNITED STATES OP AMERICA. | 



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POEMS 



WITH ADDITIONAL PROSE, 



MARY S. FACKRELL 



( OF C^ 
.PYF\1«H1 \<^^^ 



\) 



xVEW YORK: 
POOLE & MACLAUCHLAN, PRINTERS, 

205-213 East T'.i'el/th Street. 
1872. 



7^ 






Entered according to Act of Contcress, in the year 1872, by 

MARY S. FACKRELL, 

In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. 



JDtbicatioii. 



DAUGHTERS SARAH AND AGNES, 

WHO HAVE CONTRIBUTED TO MY HAPPINESS AND PROSPERITY THROUGH A PERIOD 
OF YEARS, 

This book is niost respectfully dedicated 
AS A TOKEN OF GRATITUDE AND AFFECTION 



FOND MOTHER. 



PREFACE. 



In exposing this little work to the criticising eye of the 
public, without the knowledge that it will meet the sym- 
pathy of friends or neglect of strangers, it is with no little 
diffidence that I attempt the task, with no apology save 
the urgent request of my children. I therefore venture 
to throw It into the great ocean of literature, that it may 
sink or swim, according to its own merits, abiding by the 
decision of the ever-ruling power, " Public Opinion." 
Many of the productions were written in early life, and 
are not characterized by the maturer tliought apparent 
in those of a later period ; some of which were published 
in the "Advance," edited by J. W. Hopkins, of Ogdens- 
burg, N. Y., — the prose pieces over the signature "Sea- 
weed." The "Advance" was published during the Re- 
bellion, which accounts in a measure for the patriotic 
sentiment so prominent, and running almost in a direct 
line through the whole collection bearing that date. 

Should this work answer no other purpose, it has been 
a source of employment and gratification not only amidst 



VI PREFACE. 

the duties and cares of life, but in deepest sorrow has 
sometimes turned the channel of thought, and occupied 
the mind which might otherwise have been given a prey 
to melancholy. The contents of the book have been 
called forth from time to time, during a busy life, as 
opportunity would suggest ; and, whatever be the verdict 
of a discriminating press, we feel assured they have at 
least the merit of advocating principles that are strictly in 
accordance with moral law and sacred truth. 

MARY S. FACKRELL. 
Ogdensburg. 



CONTENTS. 



POETRY. PAGB 

Up and Doing i 

" Each Cloud has a Silver Lining " 2 

On ! the Band is Marching 3 

Children's Wishes 4 

Sabbath Bells 7 

Lines on the Death of Mrs. P. A Request g 

The Crystal Engine. A Prize Poem 10 

Good-Night, Mamma II 

Lines inscribed to Mr. and Mrs. P., of Brier Hill 13 

Little Freddie 14 

To Mrs. S. H. Rice. By Request 16 

' ' Onward " 17 

"The Fool hath said in his Heart, There is no God." 19 

A Child at Prayer 21 

An Impromptu Tribute to the Memory of Robert McDowell, Esq. 23 

Nebraska. 25 

A Morning in June 27 

The Emigrant 29 

National Hymn 31 

Be Firm f 33 

Stand by your Country 34 

Flag Raising 36 

Tribute to Col. Ellsworth 37 

National Song 39 

Our Country 40 

Lines on the Death of Charles Backus 42 

Men of the Hour 43 

Stand by your Colors^ 44 

Is there Hope for the Slave ? 46 



Vlll CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

Epitaph for Nellie O. Aged 3 years 48 

Where are they ? 48 

The Laugh of a Child 49 

Written for the " Sabbath School Trumpet " 50 

Softly she Faded 51 

Minstrel's Good Night 52 

Lines for Music. Respectfully inscribed to H. S. P 53 

The Grave of an Infant 54 

The Skater's Song 55 

Song 56 

An Address to the Philomathean Society of P 57 

Lines on the Death of John A. Fulton 59 

Home of Childhood 60 

Victory 62 

The Empire of Memory 63 

Despair 64 

Frances 65 

Song — Come, Sign the Pledge 66 

Silas Wright. Volunteer Toast 68 

Woman's Rights 69 

P"riendship. To Jane 73 

The Light on the Water 74 

Epitaphs 76 

To a Friend's Family 79 

Music 79 

Tears 80 

Song of the " Total Abstinence Man " 81 

To the Winds 82 

Tribute to the Memory of Miss Margaret McDowell 84 

To the Evening ^ar 87 

The United Republic 89 

Temptation 90 

Light through the Storm 90 

My Wild Vine Bower 91 

Reminiscences 92 

J. L. Joice 93 

The South Wind 94 

A Mother's Love 95 

To Margaret P 97 



CONTENTS. IX 

FAOE 

To War 9^ 

Aggie to Sarah 98 

The Twin Sifters 99 

Refleclions at a Grave 100 

To Mrs. S IC2 

To Sarah 103 

To Rev. L. A. W 104 

Thoughts on Childhood 105 

Parody on " Kingdom Conii 1' " 107 

Will you go to tlie Fair ? io3 

An Acrostic i > o 

Ode to the Moon no 

The New-Year 113 

Farewell to Sunniier 115 

To Agnes ii(> 

Childhood for Sarah S n 7 

To Mrs. M. E. H 1 13 

" That Land," by J. L. Joice 120 

PROSE. 

Mind 122 

An Incident in Every-day Life 125 

Music. An Essay 131 

Scraps from a Note-Book 135 

Keep the Heart Riglit 138 

The Contrast 141 

Speak a kind Word when you can 144 

The Fourth of July I45 

Shall we Falter ? I47 

Scraps from a Note- Book 149 

Love. Purity, raid Fidelity 152 

Home , 153 

Americn 157 

Clouds.. 159 

Rain 1 60 

The Utility of Decoration 161 

A Sketch 162 



POEMS 



"Up ayxb Doing," 

"Up and doing," never weary, 
Be thy motto on through Hfe ; 
Though the path be dark and dreary, 
Fear not, faint not, 'mid the strife. 

Doubt not, wait not ; while ye tarry 
Other hands the prize may gain ; 
From the well-known path ne'er vary, 
Lest ye seek the goal in vain. 

Time and tide ne'er wait for idlers ; 
What thou doest, do it well — ■ 
Leave thy mark — upon time's record- 
Let thy deeds the future tell. 

In the cause of right — pursue it, 
And truth's sacred banner guard — 
Duty learn, then dare and do it ; 
In thy breast is thy reward. 



POEMS. 



Though the present ne'er requite you, 
Though ye reap not from the soil, 
Though Ufe's waves dash wildly round you, 
Nobler, braver is thy toil ! 

Though earth's prospects all are blighted, 
Though with grief the heart be cold, 
Way-worn, weary, and benighted, 
Seeking rest without the fold, — 

Look not back, nor sigh in sadness 
For the joys whose light is fled, 
Golden promises of gladness 
Which perchance now too, are dead. 

" Up and doing," on and ever ; 
Hope shall waft thee o'er the ^ide ; 
Faith's pure light will beam forever ; 
Trust, and gain the other side ! 



-:o:- 



*'(iat\) CHloiilt l)as a 5Uiicr Ciiung." 

I PAUSED as those words gently fell on my ear. 

So full of bright promise to strengthen and cheer, 

For a dark cloud of sorrow hung over my sky, 

And each thought which had birth was the home of a sigh. 

How oft as I've gazed for some star midst the gloom, 
Or some spot in the waste where hope's flow'rets might 
bloom. 



rOKMS. 

Has the star in the distance sent forth a cold beam. 
And echo repeated, Life's but a sad dream ! 

Oft, cheerless and lone, I have murmur'd to tread 
Life's path, dark beneath me, and darker o'erhead ; 
But a tinge on the cloud sent a thrill to my breast — 
For I knew it was gemmed with a beautiful crest ! 

A ray of glad sunshine had broken the spell, 
Dispersing the shade o'er my pathway which fell ; 
Its warm, genial influence had parted the cloud, 
And I saw it was lined with a silvery shroud ! 



(Dili tl)c Banli is ilTarcl)mg. 



Oh ! the day has come at last 

When the glorious news is heard, 
And the Band is marching many thousand strong. 

And we grasp each other's hand. 

Though we utter scarce a word. 
As the swelling tide triumphant rolls along. 

Chorus — On, on, on, the Band is marching. 
Like an army, strong and free, 
And they dash away the wine, 
Give the "Pledge" a countersign. 
And they stand beneath the Temperance banner 
free. 



pof:ms. 

Oh ! the feeblest heart grew strong, 

And the most despondent sure, 
When we signed the glorious pledge we love so well, 

And we knew that want and woe. 

We no longer should endure, 
When the strength of freemen burst our prison cell. 

Chorus. 

Now the war with rum is o'er. 

And the vict'ry gained at last, 
And the cause we love and cherish too is won ; 

All the wrong we must regret. 

But the past we will forget, 
While the noble Temperance army marches on. ^ 
Chorus. 



Harry. — I wish to be a sailor bold 
Upon the broad blue sea ; 
I love to roam o'er its sparkhng foam, 
Its waves so wild and free ; 
I love to sleep on the boundless deep. 
Rocked by the restless tide ; 
And spread the sail to the sweeping gale 
In all a sailor's pride. 

Emma. — I wish to be a milliner. 

And sport the latest style. 

For out of fashion, in the world. 



POEMS. 

Is only " durance vile." 
I would arrange the colors well, 
The modes with taste and skill, 
And make the homely or the fair 
More lovely at my will. 

Frank. — I wish to be a soldier biave, 
I love the fife and drum ; 
I'll go where duty, honor calls, 
Whatever foe may come. 
The patriot hero's grave be mine 
When life's last spark is fled. 
And wreaths of ever-living fame . 
Adorn my brow when dead. 

Rose. — I'd like to be a pretty flower. 
And pearls of dew-drops wear, 
With brightest hues to deck the bower 
Or scent the summer air ; 
I'd greet the weary passer-by 
With bright and blooming smile 
Adorn the head of innocence. 
Or charm the happy child. 

Horace. — I wish to be a printer just, 
And tell the world the news. 
To hold up all that's good and great, 
And kno\^edge wide diff"use. 
I'll advocate the cause of right. 
Nor stoop to any bribe, 
And will free speech and press defend, 
Whatever may betide. 

Lydia. — I wish to be a poetess, 



6 POKMS. 

For I am fond of rhyme ; 

But mine shall be true sentiment, 

Poetic, grand, sublime ; 

I'll gayly paint the beautiful, 

And draw from nature's store ; 

To win and wear an author's name, 

This gained, I'll ask no more. 

George. — I wish to be a " President," 
With rule o'er land and sea ; 
Our " Flag" should wave o'er ev'ry slave 
Proclaiming "Liberty!" 
No traitor vile, with wily smile. 
Should any office hold, 
Who'd spread a curse to fill his purse. 
Or sell his soul for gold. 

Mary. — And I would be a woman true, 
To live and love for all. 
To dry the tear from sorrow's eye 
When hope and pleasure pall ; 
Would seek to elevate the race. 
And bow at virtue's shrine ; 
To cheer, to bless, death's pillow smooth, 
Such hope, such love be mine. 

Mother. — I've listened to your ev'ry wish 
With pleasure, pride, and hope ; 
An upright part, ambition high. 
Deserve a free, full scope ; 
But human life is stamped with change. 
Though all seems passing fair ; 
Your highest good — -a sinless heart — 
Should be your chiefest care. 
April ^, 1862. 



rOEMS. 



Sabbati) Bella. 

Hark, the bells of Sabbath morning — 

Messengers of hope and rest — 
Floatuig on the gentle breezes. 

Speaking peace to every breast. 

Sabbath Bells, your hallowed cliiming 

Softly strikes a tender chord, 
Waking fond and golden memories, 

Treasures, in the bosom stored. 

Memories of happy childhood, 

Of the old familiar hearth. 
Of the School-house, Church and Grave-yard, 

All the dearest spots of earth. 

Still the bells of Sabbath morning 

Clearly ring a cheerful peal, 
Telling still as true and sweetly, 

" Heaven can every sorrow heal." 

Still the Sabbath bells are ringing, 
Pointing to the " House of Prayer," 

While the calls of love and mercy 
Bid us seek an entrance there. 

P'rom the humble, lowly dwelling, 
From the homes of wealth and pride, 

Forth they come with mingled footsteps, 
And they worship side by side. 



POEMS. 

Free from earth-born care and sorrow, 
Here the soul is killed to rest, 

While a calm and holy sunshine 
Settles down in every breast. 

These are precious, golden moments, 
To the weary, way-worn given, 

While they catch the songs of angels, 
While they dream of rest in Heaven. 

Sabbath Bells ! cease not your chiming 
Till your tones are heard afar, 

Till the heathen, now in darkness, 
Hail the bright, the " Morning Star." 

Let your sweet and joyful music 

Swell the theme — a Saviour's love — 

Till all nations join in worship, 
A triumphant Church above. 



POEMS. 



Cines on tl)c JDcatl) of llTve. |3. 



A REQUEST. 

Thou art gone from our circle, dear mother 
Thy place in the home and the heart 

Can never be filled by another ; 

Ah ! sad is the thought — we must part. 

Round the fire-side, so silent and lonely, 
We miss thee — our truest, best friend ; 

But the wealth of affection can only 
More deeply the stricken heart rend. 

Yet oft, in the silence of even, 
We fancy thy voice we can hear 

In a message of love — yes, 'tis giv'n 
The grief-stricken mourner to cheer. 

Fond mother — thy name will we cherish — 
A star that is radiant and true. 

Till life and its day-dreams shall perish — 
Till we sigh our last fond adieu. 

We will trust, with the pure and the holy, 
Thou wilt join the angehc strain ; 

Thy sky all undimmed by earth's shadows, 
Our loss be thine infinite gain, 



lO POEMS. 



®l)e (HvMstal Engine. 



A PRIZE POEM. 

Mysterious structure of mechanic art, 
That of invention's wonders forms a part; 
The noble, giant powers of the mind 
Are lavished here, perfected and refined. 

A beautiful display of human skill, 
Type of man's strength, his genius and his will; 
The power of intellect, with steam combined. 
Has caused the world to wonder — blest mankind. 

And here, a Crystal Engine greets the eye, 
With all the hues reflected from the sky ; 
And while in mute astonishment we gaze, 
In harmony a bubbling Fountain plays. 

Though perfect each, Hke starry gems they seem, 
So brilliant, pure, or do we only dream 
Of fairy lands, of lovely birds and flowers 
That sing and bloom amid the crystal bowers ? 

But here the mighty Engine's power we test ; 
The fire, steam, boiler, crystal and the rest, 
That form one ])erfect whole of strength and skill. 
Are seen and felt, subservient to man's will. 



POEMS. 



The wealth of intellect, his power and pride, 
Diffusing light and knowledge far and wide, 
Points "upward, onward" till the lightnings' gleam 
Bow^ acquiescent to "the age of steam." 



(5ooL)-uigl)t, ilTnmina. 

" Good-night, mamma," those simple words, 

To any save a mother's ear. 
May have no music in their tone, 

No meaning, treasured, dear. 

And yet they thrill the mother's heart — 
That purest fount of earthly love 

Unmingled with earth's sordid hopes, 
'Tis sure allied to that above. 

" Good-night, mamma," those accents sweet 
Call angel-watches through night's shade ; 

Ah, ne'er again may that young heart 
Confide and never be betrayed. 

" Good-night, mamma," 'tis softly said. 
And then the little eyelids close ; 

Upon its pillow rests the head 

In childhood's deep and sweet repose. 

The gentle breathing, soft and low, 
How like the fragrant zephyr's sigh ; 

The smile, the bloom upon the cheek. 
All, all seem borrowed from the sky. 



12 POEMS. 

Above the head a thiy hand 

Lies heedless of its cherished toys. 

Now scattered and neglected strewn, 
Significant of life's brief joys. 

Oh ! peaceful rest — Oh ! happy hour 
In childhood's fair and sunny day ; 

To blight thy hopes — earth has no power — 
No charm to steal thy bliss away ! 

Deep in the fond maternal heart 

That dulcet voice — that sweet good-night, 

Is murm'ring like some spirit-har]^) 

Whose notes are borne from realms of light. 

Good-night, dear little trusting one, 
A mother's fond good-night to thee. 

With this warm prayer — that Heaven may grant 
Each good, and from each evil free. 

And when the last good-night is said. 
May angels greet thy happy morn, 

To crown with living wreaths thy head — 
With robes of beauty to adorn. 



POEMS. 13 



Cincs TiiBcvibtti to flTr. aniJ illrs. ])., of Brier 
C^ill. 

There's grief in the little circle — 

A blank in the bousehold band, 
For the dove so fondly cherished 

Has flown to the spirit land. 

From their bright home the angels 

Beheld the beauteous flower, 
And came to bear it gently 

Away to a fadeless bower. 

With joy they heard the message 

That called the dove to rest, 
Ere earth-born cares and sorrows 

Had pierced its tender breast. 

Their sweet and winning music 
Soon charmed the artless child ; 

He heard their light wings flutter, 
And eagerly he smiled. 

Then away on shining pinions, 

In robes of purest white. 
The angels bore, to heaven 

The infant cherub bright. 

Though stricken ones are weeping 

The fall of the early flower. 
With hopes that twined so fondly 

Around affection's bower — 



14 POEjMS. 

The Hand that gave such beauty, 
And lent the. spirit's ray, 

Formed them lo bloom for ever, 
Though earth shall pass away ; 

Then waking from death's slumber 
With crowns and harps of gold, 

Will shine the infant number, 
Within the Saviour's fold. 



CittU IxtWit. 



[Aa occurrence when the little " Wide-Awakes " were marching, before tie 
Kleclion of President Lincoln.] 

"I AM tired, sleepy, mother, 

Take me, take me on your lap — 
Put away my -cloak and banner — 

And my pretty soldier's cap. 

"When I talked with httle Bennie, 

What it was that shook me so, 
Oh, I cannot tell you, mother, 

But I hadn't strength to go. 

"When they said 'Hurra for Lincoln,' 
Something filled my throat like chaff, 

But I tried to speak the louder — 
Abe '11 make the darkies laugh. 



POEMS. 15 

" Charlie Bennett saw me shaking ; 

First he wondered, then he said, 
* Are you cold ? what ails you, Freddie ? 

Do go home and go to bed.' 

"And I came to you, dear modier, 

So that Freddie's head could rest :" 
And the mother pressed him fondly 

To her gentle, loving breast. 

But his pulses wildly beating 

And his throbbing, burning brow 
Tell a tale of fearful meaning— 

Who shall stay Death's angel now ? 

" Mother, how my head is aching ; 

Is there anybody near ? " 
Then he nestled closer to her, 

Shrinking with some sudden fear. 

But the mother's gentle soothing 

CalmecVher loved one till he slept, 
When a smile, sweet as an angel's, 

O'er her darling's features crept. 

Hours she watched him slumb'ring sweetly, 

And a tear would dim her eye, 
But she never thought of parting 

With her little cherub boy. 

For the love that twined around him 

Of her being seemed a part — 
Oh, how strong the ties that bound him 

To that tender mother's heart ! 



1 6 roEMS. 

But he woke and gazed so fondly 

In her earnest, anxious eye, 
" Where was I, — Oh, mother, tell me, 

Was it far up in the sky ? 

" Did you hear the angels singing? 

Oh, how sweet — how sweet — but see, 
Now a golden harp they're bringing. 

And they said it was for me. 

"And they said they'd come and take me 
To their pretty shining home — 

Hear them, Mother ! don't you hear them ! 
Now they whisper, ' Freddie, come.' " 



®o mv3. %. % llicc. 



BY REQUEST. 

Silent and sad as ye bend o'er the tomb, » 

Where a loved one to earth is consigned ; 
Weep not as ye think of your child's early doom, 

For the spirit no fetters can bind. 
Though oft-times affection may prompt thee to trace 

Those features to mem'ry so dear ; 
But the language unspoken that beamed on that face — 

The look and the smile that were there. 
Are all gone. No charm can now light up the eye — 

No endearing caress may call forth 



POEMS. 17 

The bright, sunny smile of innocent joy, 

The young heart's childish prattle and mirth. 
'Twas the soul that enshrined in the fabric of clay 

Shone out in its loveliest light, 
To gladden thy heart, to cheer o'er life's way, 

Like a star all radiant and bright. 
But the spirit has flown — in a happier clime 

A wreath doth encircle her brow ; 
Beyond all the cares and the sorrows of time, 

She is singing with angels now. 
Oh ! then, would ye see her, seek that abode 

Where no ties of affection are riven. 
Where sorrows and heart-aches of earth never cloud 

The bliss of the dear ones in Heav'n. 



" (fi)nu)arb." 

[Written for The Advance.] 

" Onward, still onward," nor swerve from the right ; 
The eagle, still soaring, droops not in his flight, 
But plumes his proud wings as he speeds toward the sun, 
Bold, fearless, yet true — till the conquest is won. 

Ever thus, in the contest of strife with mankind, 
New York's noble motto, " Excelsior," bind 
On thy brow — in thy heart, looking upward the while, 
" A talisman sure is a breast free from guile.' 



1 8 POEMS. 

Trusting, set thy mark high on the circle of time, 
Approaching the great, the good, the subHme ; 
The nearer the fountain true wisdom's obtained; 
More efiulgent the hght when the summit is gained. 

Though pure be tiiy motive — hke mists on the deep 
The shadows of envy may silently creep 
Roimd thy path — yet be just to thyself, to mankind. 
True greatness of soul — the wealth of the mind 

Co-extensive with light, ever " onward " shall soar 
When the rev'rie of life and its day-dreams are o'er ; 
Like a halo of glory, shall circle thy head 
Where the skies are all fair and earth's shadows have fled. 

Should the waves of adversity angrily sweep 
The hopes that have ventured thy bark on the deep. 
Keep the pole-star in view as ye drift on the tide — 
. Stand firm at the helm till the wild waves subside. 

Bravely breasting the storm, hast'ning "onward" — at last 
Bright skies smile above thee — the tempest is past. 
And the sweet silver stars, looking down on the scene, 
Gild hfe's evening calm with a beauty serene. 

And when thou art nearing the fair, sinless shore. 

And hast heard the last plash of hfe's weary oar. 

Faith points thee still " onward," Hope whispers for thee, 

There's a haven of rest — the tired spirit is free. 

Ogdensburgh, March, 1861. 



POEMS. 1 9 



" €l)c iTool l)atl) sailt in l)is l)cavt, (J:l)crc is no 

^Ol»." PSALMS. ^ 

Are there any who gaze on the beautiful sky — 
On the stars that are glowing so silently there, 

And planets that move, in their orbits on high. 

Through the measureless depths of the still azure air, 

And see not the Author, the First Cause, of all 
This wondrous Creation, so boundless and vast — 

An Omnipotent Pow'r to arrange and control. 

While the ages of Time in their courses shall last? 

Ah, no ! mortal man must acknowledge thy reign, 
Thou great King Eternal — thou Ruler Supreme ; 

'Tis Thy will to create, Thy pow'r to ordain, 

To direct the sun's ray and the moon's paler beam. 

The -earth is thy footstool, the heaven thy throne — 

Exalted in majesty, power and might ; 
Truth, justice and righteousness blend in the zone 

That encircles thy palace of glory and light ; 

Yet the heaven of heavens can never contain 
Th' omniscient, omnipresent, omnipotent Lord ; 

Thy works do acknowledge thine eternal reign, 
Self-existent, immortal, invisible Word. 

'Twas thy promise that gave to the rainbow its hue : 
The seasons return and the earth yields her store ; 

The pure flake of snow, the rain and the dew 
Affirm that thy word shall forever endure. 



20 POEMS. 

Thou art heard in the storm and the dread thunder's 
crash — 
Thou art seen in the cloud and the swift lightning's 
gleam — 
In the dppths of old ocean — the wild surges' lash — 
And heard in the murmur of each gentle stream. 

Thou art seen through all nature abroad the green earth : 
In the meadow and woodland, the vale and the hill, 

On the snow-crested mountain, in desert and heath, 
In the cataract's foam, in the torrent and rill. 

Thy wisdom shines forth in the beautiful flower, 
Surpassing in loveliness, fragrance and bloom, 

Bright emblem of purity, vestige of power, 

And type of the beauty that wakes from the tomb. 

Nor only through nature inanimate seen. 

But seen in the Christian through all his bright way, 

In sorrow or joy — on whose arm he may lean, 
His guide and his hope, his staff and his stay. 

Though enthroned in the heavens, a temple on earth 
In the heart of the lowly — the humble, is thine ; 

Thus all that is great, good, and lovely hath birth — 
Thus flow the pure streams from a fountain divine. 



POEMS. 2 1 



^ €l)ilb at J3raM£r. 

Sweet Innocent ! may I but linger here 

To gaze upon thy youthful brow — thine eye 

Upturned to Heaven, while thy full heart pours . 

Its grateful adoration to that power 

Which formed the temple bright and beautiful ? 

Fair cherub — dost thou know that any save 

The All-Seeing Eye is resting on thee now ? 

Oh ! I could gaze upon thee long ; mine eye 

Hath ne'er beheld such perfect loveliness, 

For 'tis the verdant spring-time of thy year, 

The sunny smile, the more than mortal glow 

That beams upon thy countenance — the cheek 

Of rosy tinge, the snowy placid brow, 

The shining curl, the dark eye, lustrous with 

A living light that tells of diamonds rare 

Within the earthen casket, all are thine — 

And scarce seven summers' genial suns have shed 

Their influence o'er thy tender head ; thy form 

So frail, oh ! it doth seem thou* ne'er couldst stem 

The waves of life's rough current, dashing high 

Their spray, then sinking, flowing smoothly on 

But to redouble all their violence 

And toss the bark till fierce destruction yawns. 

Away, sad thought ! intruder, come not near 

To mar this picture with thy boding breath ! 

This spot is sacred, for the guileless soul, 

In holy trust and meek simplicity. 

Is holding audience with the Eternal King, . 

And sues for mercy. Yes, thou well mayst ask, 

For He who said " Come unto me," will not 



J POEMS. 

Reject thy suit. Here youth, in all its bloom 

And loveliness, is oftering up the lirst 

Fresh incense of a soul unstained by sin — 

Free off' ring from the well-spring of the heart, 

Pure as its source ! Methinks the angel choir 

Would pause, suspend their harps, in silence bend 

To catch the distant notes of prayer and praise 

Borne sweetly upward to the Throne of God ! 

Entranced I gaze and listen to those sounds 

As though 'twere fairy music floating soft 

Upon the twilight breeze, that I might catch 

Some Heav'nly inspiration from thy li])s, 

'Twould breathe upon my soul a holy calm 

Amid the threat'ning storms and ills of life. 

Yes, in that fervent prayer of simple faith 

And childish trust, oh ! how I could confide. 

No formal, faithless mockery is here, 

With outward garment which but ill conceals 

The naked soul, by its own selfishness 

Empov'rished ! No dissembler's eloquence 

That winds its silken robes in graceful folds 

Around the sad deformity within ! 

No, this is white-robed innocence ! but see, 

The pleader rises and with timid eye 

Now meets my gaze. Forgive ! forgive thou wilt, 

For 'tis no heedless passer-by, but one 

Who'd gladly shield from time's cold, with'ring frosts 

Those buddings of th' immortal germ, and guard 

The slender stalk, till in the blissful clime 

Its blossoms shall unfold and wear the bloom 

Of never-fading verdure, basking in 

Th' effulgent blaze of glory which surrounds 

The Paradise of God. 



POEMS. 23 



^n Impromptu (J^vibute to tl)e iiTeinor» of 
Hobevt illcDoiucll, ^aq. 

Gone in a good old age ! Yes, four-score years 

Have strewn around thy path their summer tiowers 

And winter frosts. Though time with partial hJnd 

So many years bestowed, 'twas not in vain ; 

For, while a life of usefulness hath shed 

Its blessings all around, th' immortal germ, 

Expanding still, more perfect hath become, 

To wear the fadeless bloom of Paradise. 

But we will pause and dwell upon the past. 

While all thy lengthened path-way tells a part 

Well acted on the stage of life — the scene, 

Now closed to mortal eye ('tis ever thus), 

Stern justice will in scales unerring weigh 

The good and ill of all thy varied deeds. 

'Tis true, upon life's battle-field no clash 

Of arms, no trumpetings of victory, 

No glitt'ring sword, worn by a coward's side. 

Proclaimed in dazzling pomp thine onward march ! 

No proud ambition's vain display to shine — 

No changing hues, chameleon-like, to sue 

For titled honors, mercenary ends, 

Have ever stained thine upright soul ; for thou 

Didst live above the world's poor vanities. 

With noble aim and stern integrity ; 

Unmoved didst meet the smiles or frowns of fate, 



24 POEMS. 

And view earth's busy scenes of mingled care 
And strife, e'en like the giant oak, that stands 
Sublime and marks the whirlwinds wildly pass, 
Nor stoops to mingle in their clamor rude — 
An emblem of true greatness ! With a mind 
Of penetration deep, and soul adorned 
With sterling virtue, wisdom sage, which well 
Might grace a nation's council, thou didst choose 
To tread the humble walks of life, content 
With thy Creator's guardianship. 

How like 
An aged tree, whose branches wither one 
By one, thou'st seen fond friends, the true, the good. 
The loved depart — and far from home, and in 
A stranger's land, the last sad sigh was heaved — 
The last farewell was whispered — and the last 
Warm prayer was borne on faith's white wings to heaven ! 
Though not by strangers' hands were closed thine eyes, 
Thy children's children round thy dying couch 
Their sympathy bestowed in deeds of love ! 
Oh, yes ! — a slender youthful form was seen 
To glide in silence through the sick man's room — 
A gentle, self-devoted watcher ! Lost 
To her were earth's bright scenes, if she might soothe 
The bitter pangs which dry the fount of life. 
Or but beguile the weary hours of her 
Afflicted grand-sire ; but she has received 
The good man's parting blessing — meet reward 
For true devotion, generous sympathy. 
But while we bid a sad, a last adieu. 
Thy soul, from earth emancipated, soars 
To meet its Father and its God ! while saints, 
The loved, the lost of earth, do welcome thee 
To join their songs of bliss around the Throne! 



25 



Thus pass away from earth the great, the good, 
Like setting sun at eve, when not a cloud 
Obscures its glorious rays, and, like those rays, 
Their virtues linger when life's sun has set ! 



THOUGHTS OCCASIONED BY ITS PROPOSED ORGANIZATION INTO A 
TERRITORY. 

Hath earth a clod 
Its Maker meant not should be trod 
By man, the image of his God, 

Erect and free? — Campbell. 

Hath soil been marked by Heaven's decree 

To nurse the roots of slavery ? 

And this fair region of the West, 

In nature's gorgeous beauty drest, 

Been stamped to wear the oppressor's chain 

To mad ambition's thirst for gain — 

Been given a prey ? whose earth — whose sun 

And waters, sparkling as they run — 

Whose air and sk}^, and rocks and rills. 

And snow-crowned mountains — lofty hills, 

And fertile fields, and forests green. 

And hidden mines, and gems unseen, 

Are free, all free — must tyrants reign ? 

The good, the wise, all plead in vain — 

Must cruel, heartless man bear sway, 

And " laws enacted " to obey ? 

Shall freedom's sacred banner wave 



2 6 POEMS. 

Where man must live and die a slave ? 
No— let the flag of Slavery rise 
In awful blackness to the skies — 
Not for the negro's hue to mourn, 
But for the light of freedom flown — 
To mark the spot where tyrants reign, 
And buy and sell for earthly gain 
Their brothers' rights, their brothers,' blood — 
Nor dread just Heaven's avenging rod ! 
Hath bounds been set to light and truth ? 
And their high mission, to go forth — 
Chained like the slave ? As well the sun 
Might in his course refuse to run,^ 
Or ocean's waves forget to roll. 
Or earth presume to change her pole. 
As tyranny expect to bind, 
By law or chains, the Heaven-born mind. 
How dear to man the ties of earth — 
Dear is the land which gave him birth — 
Dear is the patriot's honored grave, 
And dear the memory of the brave. 
How dear Columbia's peaceful homes, 
Her smiling daughters, hopeful sons. 
The happy hearth, the festive board, 
The blessings of the mind well stored, 
■The pleasures of a taste refined — 
Nor laws to sever nor to bind. 
All, all that's dear to man was given 
Free — from the indulgent hand of Heaven. 
Then give the captive of the earth 
The light which gave those blessings birth ; 
Drive not the Indian from his home, 
In farther wastes and wilds to roam, 
But send the Gospel's heavenly flame, 



POEMS. 27 

His soul to light, his will to tame. 
" Is't death to fall for freedom's right? 
He's dead alone that lacks her light !" 
Rouse ! rouse, ye freemen of the North ! 
Ye sons of toil, of honest worth, — 
Stand at your posts^assert your claims — 
Let history write your honored names, 
Who nobly dare arrest the ban 
That would degrade your fellow-man. 
Let honest labor be repaid, 
And Slavery's current yet be stayed ! 
By all that's sacred, all that's dear 
To freemen's hearts, who cannot fear. 
Save Heaven's just anger to provoke. 
Arise ! throw off the galling yoke 
Of sin and shame thy brother wears, — 
Avert his wrongs, and dry his tears ; 
And never, while the life-blood runs 
Warm in the veins of Freedom's sons, 
I^et warning voice, in accents clear, 
With words like these fall on the ear — 
"Thy brother's blood," in wailing sound, 
" Doth cry unto me from the ground ! " 



^ illorning in 3\xnt. 

How calm and still the early dawn ! 

How bright the sunbeams play, 
Just breaking forth upon the lawn, 

To usher in the day. 



28 POEMS. 

How ]Hire and balmy is the the air, 

All laden with perfume, 
Borne on the light, the gentle breeze, 

New clothing earth with bloom ! 

The birds, enraptured, pour one song 

Of ceaseless melody ! 
No jarring note, no harp unstrung, 

In Nature's minstrelsy ! 

How sweet, how beautiful the flowers 
Of summer's gorgeous hue ! 

Now sparkling in the morning sun 
With evenmg's star-lit dew. 

The fields appear in livery green — 
The trees with waving plumes — ■ 

In Nature's charming equipage 

The glad earth smiles and blooms ! 

There's music in the laiighing brook 

That gently winds along, 
Through meadow green or shady nook, 

To sing its pebbled song. 

The glorious sky, how brightly blue ! 

The clouds in beauty sleep. 
All folded back from Heaven's arch, 

Too tranquil now to weep ! 

What pure and holy'thoughts arise ! 

What adoration fills 
The soul ahve to Nature's charms ! — 

The soul that beauty thrills. 



POEMS. 29 

And all is beauty, ev'rj'where, 

Around, beneath, above ! 
And all-rejoicing Nature glows 

With gratitude and love ! 

Then, while all earth responsive sings, 

With ev'ry harp in tune, 
May I not join the chorus gay 

This lovely morn of June ? 



^\)t (^migrant. 



WRITTEN DURING THE PREVALEN'CE OF CHOLERA. 

On the banks of St. Lawrence one eve as I stray' d, 
To muse on the beauties of sunlight and shade, 
The rays of the setting orb shone in the sky, 
And all nature was tinged with a beautiful dye. 

Ev'ry wave was at rest as the stream roll'd along, 
Ev'ry echo was hushed of the birds' merry song ; 
The night-hawk was seeking her nest by the shore, — 
Not a sound broke the stillness save some distant oar. 

As 1 lingered to gaze on the beautiful scene, 
P'or the earth was now crowned with her garland of green, 
I believed that no sorrow had e'er marked the spot. 
And happiness here her fair dwelling had sought. 



30 POEMS. 

But hark ! on the breeze, as the stream gUded by, 
Come the pitiful tones of a feeble child's cr)' ; 
For a moment I listened, to learn whence the sound, 
And then sought the spot, where the cause was soon found. 

There an Emigrant sat on the beach in despair, 
Sad, way-worn, and weary with sorrow and care ; 
Beside him lay sleeping his fair eldest boy — 
On his knee wept his babe, but he made no reply, 

Till, roused by the sound of a footstep so near, 
He gazed wildly round with an aspect of fear ; 
Then imploringly asked if a roof he could find 
To shield his poor babes from the chilling sight wind. 

" Their mother, poor darlings," he said, " she's no more — 
She died ere she reached the x\merican shore ; 
Then my baby fell sick when missing her care, 
And I gave my last penny to settle our fare." 

" I set out for Kingston, but by my delay 
I've only arrived at Matilda to-day ; 
May not the poor Emigrant some help obtain 
Till fortune may smile on his path-way again ! " 

Oh, could I relieve him, or dry mis'ry's tear. 
But I turned in despair, no home had I near ; 
To a mansion I pointed where riches were stored, 
And seemed to invite to its plentiful board. 

His babe to his bosom the Emigrant drew, 

The fast-falling tear to conceal from my view ; 

While in anguish he answered, " I came from that door ; 

No pity is there for the wretched and poor." 



POEMS. 31 

Then cross this pure stream, I repUed ; on yon shore 
Hospitality reigns at a more humble door, 
Where provision is made for the poor and distressed, 
And the blessings of Heaven on the exile may rest. 

My heart moved with pity, I turned from the spot 
In silence, and slowly my lodgings I sought ; 
Tiie beautiful dream in my musing was o'er, 
The sorrows and woes of mankind to deplore. 

I thought of the changes that make up life's day, 
Now the sunshine of joy, when hope beams o'er the way. 
Then the darkness of sorrow that clouds the bright morn 
For the history of life in divisions is torn. 

Thus the Emigrant once, in his own loved retreat, 
With dear ones around him life's pleasures were sweet ; 
Now an exile he mourns, far from kindred and home, 
And doomed in the land of the stranger to roam. 
Matilda, Canada West. 



National ^nmn. 

TUNE — " AMERICA." 

Great Sovereign of the free, 
We bow alone to Thee, 

Author divine ; 
Who gavest our land its birth, 
Its altar and its hearth, 
The chosen spot of earth 
For Freedom's shrine. 



32 POEMS. 



The morn looked up and smiled 
Upon her fairest child 

Of promise bright ; 
Columbia's name she bore, 
And on her head she wore 
A diadem of yore — 

Stars set in light. 

All nations look to thee, 
Thou birth-place of the free, 

With eager gaze ; 
O ! may the beacon bright, 
That sheds for all its light, 
Through dark oppression's night 

Still burn and blaze. 

With institutions great, 
Alike for Church and State, 

Or homestead hearth ; 
No favorite we know, 
Whose royal blood must flow, 
But honor, fame, bestow 

On merit, wortli. 

We hold, with honest pride. 
Our " Magna Charta" wide, 

Our blessings free ; 
Our glorious flag unfurled, 
Waves o'er the Western world. 
Its folds the breeze has curled 

On every sea. 

But should a lawless band 
Invade our cherished land, 
Or rebels rise ; 



POEMS. ^;^ 



We'll drain our richest veins 

To guard, while life remains, 

Our flag from ti-eason's stains 

In Freedom's skies. 

May peace, like gentle dove, 
Brood o'er the land we love, 

Nor seek to roam ; 
May no rude foe divide 
Our Union, strong and wide, 
Our fathers' God preside 
O'er Freedom's home. 



1861. 



:o:- 



3t JTirm. 

Be firm, O ye freemen, be firm in your might, 

Relinquish no part of your God-given right — 

No stronghold of freedom bequeathed by your sires, 

Still burn on their altars its hallowed fires. 

To light up the path of the fearless and brave, 

The " Flag of our Union " our country to save ; 

In the sunlight of justice and wisdom to guide 

The great ship of State o'er the tremulous tide ; 

From the shores of New England, from Plymouth's proud 

rock, 
Whose base the rude waves in their storm-fury mock. 
Where the first song of freedom rose full on the breeze, 
2* 



34 POEMS. 

Re-echoed again through the tall forest trees 

To the wild western prairie, whose wilder flowers vie 

With those of rich culture or beautiful dye ; 

From the North with its sturdy strong-armed sons of toil, 

Its free institutions, its generous soil, 

Tenacious of justice, equality, right, 

With sword in its sheath, yet untarnished and bright ; 

To the fair, sunny South with its chivalric pride 

(May its prowess and valor be ever untried). 

With its blooming plantations in peaceful repose. 

Unstained by death's carnage or war's fearful woes : 

From the North to the South, from the East to the 

West, 
In fidelity, love, may all wrongs be redressed, 
And the Union cemented, each willing to share 
Whatever the burden of national care. 
One God and one Country acknowledge, defend. 
May justice with mercy in harmony blend, 
" And the Star-Spangled Banner in triumph still wave 
O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave." 

March, i86i. 



Stanlr bn |)our Countvji. 

" Stand ! the ground's your own, my braves — • 
Will ye give it up to slaves ? 
Will ye look for greener graves ? 
Hope ye mercy still ? " 

Aye, stand by your country, freemen of the North ! 
The boon of those heroes of immortal worth, 
Whose names on the record of fame shall descend 



POEMS. 35 

1 ill time with the history of nations shall end. 

Ye sons of the patriots — undaunted and true — 

Though priceless the boon, 'tis intrusted to you. 

Ay, stand by brave Lincoln, your country to guard— 

Her glory, fame, honor — your dearest reward ! 

From the halls of the nation is heard the war-cr)', 

" To arms ! " and each beating heart deigns the reply, 

" To arms ! " till its deep thunder-tones rend the air, 

" Our country and freedom or death and despair ! 

The Stars and the Stripes — yea, our pride and renown — - 

And woe to the traitor who tramples them down !" 

Arm, freemen ! at treason to strike the death-blow, 

With the veteran warrior, Scott, face the foe — 

The spirit of liberty, thrilling the North, 

Is calling her patriot warriors forth 

To meet them — your foes — they are brothers no more ! 

But traitors, imbruing their hands in your gore ! 

And staining the banner, the star-spangled sheet, 

That proudly waves o'er us, unknown in defeat ! 

Ye must meet them as rebels who dare to invade 

Your country, your glorious future degrade ! 

Who American liberties seek to o'erthrow, 

And the grand Magna Charta in dust to lay low ! 

Then gird on your armor, come forth in your might, 

And valiantly battle for " God and the right ! " 

Beneath the proud folds of the banner still yours. 

United and strong in the faith that endures ', 

" I'he Hand and the Writing are seen on the wall !" 

The oppressor is doomed and the traitor must fall ! 

Then on to the contest ! brave hearts and strong hands ! 

The first and the foremost our honor demands ! 

Our country is bleeding ! ay, stabbed to the core ! 

Her heroes are struggling for freedom once more ! 

In the cause of humanity, liberty, light. 



36 POEMS. 

On ! on to the contest, and " God speed the right !" 
Though nobly you sleep in the soldier's rude grave, 
Still o'er you in triumph the banner shall wave, 
While millions of freemen the antheni will raise, 
Our country's redeemed ! to God give the praise I 
April, i86r. 



JTlag Uabing. 

[Occasioned by the raising of a Flag by the School of the Third Ward in the village 
of 0., being the first Flag raised over a school-building.] 

Up ! up with the banner, our pride and our glory ; 

Wherever it floats, o'er the land or the sea. 
The patriots and heroes of many a story 

Have paid a warm welcome and tribute to thee. 

The stars are all there and the stripes gayly streaming, 
" The Flag of Our Union," the badge of the brave ; 

Then rally around it while each star is beaming, 
Its folds can ne'er shelter the rebel or slave ! 

Our country's proud emblem, we hail it with pleasure ; 

No banner that floats is so brilliant and true ! 
'Tis the ensign of freedom, our hearts' dearest treasure, 

We'll stand by our colors, " the red, white and blue." 

And while they are glowing from each spire and steeple, 
Three cheers for our flag, o'er the School-House unfurled ! 

The nursery of freedom, the wealth of the people. 
The strength of the_ Union, the hope of the world ! 



pof:ms. 37 

When patriot hearts warmly thrill with devotion, 

Shall not our young voices swell loudly the strain ? 
Three cheers for our flag ! on the land or the ocean — 
*l'he Army and Navy, three times three again ! 
Friday^ May 17, 186 1. 



tribute to €ol. (!:llsu)ortl). 

Rest, warrior — rest thee now. 
While round thy youthful brow 

The laurel twines. 
Adorned with jewels bright 
As stars that gem the night, 
Bathed in the azure light 

When day declines. 

New York's loved hero falls — 
Hears not his country's calls — 

The nation weeps ! 
While Freedom's hallowed bed 
Shall claim his honored head, 
Brave Ellsworth is not dead, 

The martyr sleeps ! 

While patriots round thy bier 
In silence shed the tear 

Of grief profound ; 
The Stars and Stripes, half-mast, 
Are fluttering in the blast 
At treachery unsurpassed. 

On hallowed ground ! 



38 



May, 1861. 



'Twas Freedom through the storm 
That nerved thy manly form 

To guard her trust, 
And on her sacred soil 
Foul treason's plans to foil, 
The rebel flag to spoil. 

And tread in dust ! 

A trophy round thy feet. 

For Freedom's champion meet ! 

While o'er thy grave 
The banner reared by thee, 
The treasure of the free, 
The badge of liberty. 

Is seen to wave. 

May Freedom from on high 
Each star in her blue sky 

Undimmed restore, 
From mad disunion's blight 
On our escutcheon bright 
The starry folds of light 

Beam evermore. 

O God of battles ! save, 
Ere Freedom finds a grave. 

We look to thee ; 
Let traitors ne'er divide 
Our " Union " strong and wide, 
In righteousness preside 

O'er millions free ! 



POEMS. 39 



^''ational Song. 

TUNE — "OUR FLAG IS THERE." 

God of the free, we bow to thee ; 

Thou dost the universe command ; 
Columbia's soil, from sea to sea, 

Is crowned in beauty 'neath thy hand ; 
Next to our (iod we love the sod 

Where Freedom fans her hallowed fires, 
Cemented by the patriot's blood, 

Rich Avith the graves of pilgrim sires. 

Chorus — Wide o'er the land let Freedom's band 
The nation's anthem loud prolong ; 
Let all rejoice, let every voice 

Be tuned to catch the thrilling song. 

Our country wide, each freeman's pride, 

A gem beneath the starry dome 
Whose lustre true in Heaven's own blue 

A beacon, points to Freedom's home ; 
We love the land, we love the laws 

Where Freedom rears her altar high. 
And in her glorious Heaven-born cause 

We'll guard our trust or for it die. 

The Stars and Stripes — the nation's types 
To publish o'er the land and sea 

Columbia's charter — equal rights. 
And tell the world her destiny ! 



40 POEMS. 

From every mountain top and spire, 

From every steeple let them wave, 

Till earth shall glow with Freedom's fire 

. And doomed Oppression find a grave, 

j 

We love the earth which gave us birth, 

The land once trod by pilgrim feet, 
The nation's halls, tlie home and hearth 

Where statesmen rise, and true hearts beat ; 
By all that freemen prize and bless, 

By all we keep in mem'ry green, 
We'll guard our flag, not one star less 

Shall on its brilliant folds be seen ! 

Jjine, 1 86 1. 



€)ttr Countrn. 

Shall we give it up to traitors — 
Land our fathers died to save, 
Homes they rescued by their life-blood, 
From oppression's stormy wave ? 

Never ! till the free warm current 
In our veins shall cease to flow : 
By the sacred hopes we cherish, 
Every freeman answers, No ! 

In the spirit of our fathers, 
With their banner reared on high, 
Trusting in the God of Battles, 
We will conquer or we'll die ! 



POEMS. 41 

Shades of heroes, hover o'er us ; 
Fires that on our altars glow, 
Nerve each arm and warm each bosom, 
Death to deal with every blow ! — 

Death to every germ of treason, 
Death to every rebel hope, 
Death to lawless, mad ambition, 
And oppression's blighting scope. 

Shall we compromise with traitors — 
Basely dally with the foe ; 
Yielding thus a tenfold victory, — 
Bare our breasts to meet the blow ? 

Heaven forbid ! and let us perish, 
If we ever recreant prove 
To the sacred cause of Freedom, 
To the Stars and Stripes we love. 

From the farm, the shop, the counter, 
From the desk and from the chair. 
Rally round our country's altar, 
Join ye in the ranks of war. 

On ! ye mighty host of freemen ; 
Where's the foe that can withstand 
Those who battle for their birth-right, 
For their God and native land ? 

On ! ye patriots, lion-hearted. 
Fathers, brothers, true and tried ; 
Free the soil from stain of treason, 
Let no foe our land divide. 
August 29, 1 86 1. 



42 POEMS. 



i'incs on tl}£ IDcatl) of Cljarlcs Ijackus. 



[The deceased was a resident of Waddington, and was killed at the battle of 
Ringgold, aged eighteen years.] 



Far away from his kindred the young hero sleeps, 
From his home and the friends of Hfe's morning ; . 
His comrades around him lie buried in heaps ; 
Their graves are their country adorning. 

In the vigor of youth, ere his manhood's first prime, 
Ere life's ills checked his early devotion ; 
Ere the heart's purest currents were frozen by time, 
Or earth's damps chilled its warmest emotion. 

He laid down his life, so unspotted and fair, 

A sacrifice true on his country's high altar, 

Resolved if he fell he would perish but there 

His heart should not sink, his hand should not falter. 

With his face to the foe, a brave soldier he fell ! 
The day will live long in Rebellion's sad story ; 
At Ringgold's dread battle ! the cannon his knell, 
His cloak and his blanket his pall, wet and gory. 

His form, though unshrouded, by comrades was laid 

In the soldier's rude grave, while they pause to drop o'er 

him 
One tear to his memory — one farewell is said, 
Then away to the ranks haste the comrades who bore him. 



POEMS. 43 

While far from the battle field, sighing in vain, 
The friends of his childhood are silently weeping, 
JUit he ne'er shall awaken to "glory again," 
Life's battle is o'er, he is (quietly sleeping. 

Adieu ! youthfid hero, a silent adieu ; 

Thy name, a bright star in our memory we'll cherish ; 

The patriot soldier, the noble and true. 

Thy country will bless till its glory shall perish. 



ilTcii of tl)c i5o«i*- 

When ruthless Treason in her might 
Walks madly forth at dead of night, 
To scatter gloom, to scathe and blight- 
Then Beauregard's the man, sir. 
To lead the vengeful rebel band, 
To desecrate fair Freedom's land. 
Dissolve the Union by command, 
Upon Jeff. Davis' plan, sir. 

What though Oppression's wail is heard. 
The nation's throbbing heart is stirred — 
"To Arms ! — To Arms !" the thrilling word. 

Still Beauregard's the man, sir, 
To trample Freedom's banner down 
And deeds of death and darkness crown 
With martial glory and renown, 

Upon Jeff. Davis' plan, sir. 



44 P.OEMS. 

When envy, arrogance, and pride, 
Are leagued with treason at their side, 
And impious, lawless hordes deride — 

Then Beauregard's the man, sir, 
A ready heart and hand to lend 
Their " institutions " to defend, 
The glorious Stars and Stripes to rend, 

Upon Jeff. Davis' plan, sir. 

And those ambitious men agree 
Upon the witless, worthless plea 
Of making Southern freemen free ! 

And Beauregard's the man, sir. 
Who their mistaken rights must gain, 
Though Southern soldiers fall like rain, 
And priceless Liberty be slain. 

Upon Jefif. Davis' plan, sir. 

But loyal hearts in union beat, 
And_Union men with willing feet 
Are marching on, the foe to meet — 

And Beauregard's the man, sir. 
Whose sudden fall will treason check. 
Leave Jeff, with hemp around his neck, 
Their Cotton bark a total wreck. 

Upon Jefif. Davis' plan, sir. 
October, 1861. 

:0: 

Stanlt bn iiour Colors. 

Ay, stand by your Colors, 
The red, white and blue ; 

Preserve them untarnished, 
Ye loyal and true. 



POEMS. 45 



No flag that is waving 

On land or on sea, 
Can equal in beauty 

The flag of the free. 

The spot where it rises — 

The richest of earth — 
Is sacred to freedom, 

To honor and worth ; 

And dear to the bosom 

As light to the eye, 
And brilliant in glory 

As stars in the sky. 

Though daring rebellion, 

"With traitoroiis blow, 
Shroud the temple of Freedom 

In darkness and woe ; 

Stand firm by your colors, 

On flag-stafl" or m^t ; 
As the vanguard of nations, 

Unmoved to the last. 

Though the famed "British Lion" 

Menace in his lair. 
Or, prowling for booty, 
Grow bold in despair. 

And attempt an excursion 

Across the blue deep — 
Like the dog in the fable, 

I^ess wise than a sheep ; 



46 POEMS. 

Who, seeing his shadow, 
Dropped what was his own 

To phinder his neighbor, 
When, lo ! it was gone. 

The cause tliat is righteous 
Inspires the true soul, 

"Right is might" with the hero, 
Though tyrants control. 

Then stand by your colors. 
Ye loyal and brave. 

And "The Flag of our Union" 
In triumph shall wave. 

While in flight still unrivalled 
Our eagle shall soar 

With unfettered pinions, 
Till time is no more. 

Jamiary, 1862. 



10 tl)erc ijop*^ ^^^ t')<^ Slant? 

How long — oh, how long in \\\e bondage and gloom 
Shall the Slave idly sigh o'er his terrible doom? 
Shall the last beam of hope slowly fade from his sky 
While in darkness he pines, no release but to die ? 
Not for him the blue heavens or green earth were made, 
The rill's gentle murmur or vine-tree's soft shade. 



POEMS. 47 

The beautiful flowers that scent the pure air, 

The fruits or the harvest enriched by his care ; 

He hves for another, no tie is his own ! 

(Oh ! could the warm heart become frigid as stone?) 

The voices of loved ones, the dearest on earth — 

The richest of treasures — the home and the hearth — 

Not for him, he's an outcast, with cloud on his brow, 

A mark set upon him, his manhood must bow 

For the white man to injure, to curse and despise, 

His wrongs unredressed, yet insulting the skies ! 

Ah ! say not Heaven's blessings for him are in vain. 

That his heart never yearns, no thought burns his brain, 

No throb in his bosom, no light in his eye, 

No impulse high, holy, that soars to the sky : 

His soul has been stamped by the impress divine, 

The diamond yet sparkles though deep in the mine, 

And when the great Architect summons his host 

To gather his jewels, no gem will be lost. 

Throughout the wide universe, glowing and bright, 

Truth and freedom are blended in letters of liglit ; 

Through all the green forest, on each tiny leaf, 

Through earth's countless treasures — on each golden 

sheaf. 
In the dew-drop that sparkles on flower and thorn. 
The blossom that yields all its sweets to the morn, 
In the notes of the wild bird that merrily sings. 
As he soars free from care on his gay gilded wings, 
And the low thrilling harp-notes of liberty's song. 
Hear ye not in the breeze that comes floating along, 
Or sweeping the hill-top, the valley and plain, 
As free as the billows that roll o'er the main? 
But see, morn is breaking, the shadows of night 
Are melting away in the clear, radiant light 
Of the bright sun of freedom, whose beams will erase 



48 POEMS. 

The gloom of oppression from earth's saddened face, 
And light up a smile on the cheek of despair, 
A smile bright and blessed as angels may wear, 

February i, 1862. 

:o: 



(gpitapl) for Nellie (S). 

AGED THREE YEARS. 

Yes, dear gentle Nellie, life's journey is o'er, 

A home thou hast gained on the bright sinless shore, 

Rejoicing with angels, more beauteous now, 

A harp in thy hand, and a crown" on thy brow. 



ini)crc are ^l)eM ? 

Where are the sweet dewy flowers of the morning, 
That grew in their beauty along the wayside. 
When the first crimson blush of the morn was adorning 
All nature in smiles like a beautiful bride ? 

Where are the birds which awoke us from slumber 
So merrily chirping, so cheerful and gay ? 
When Nature in tune seemed to join in the number. 
And scatter sweet melody over life's way. 

"Wliere is the casket of Hope's golden treasures. 
Her castles of splendor, and turrets of fame ? 
Life's spring-time of roses, and future of pleasures ; 
Its sorrows all vanished or known but in name. 



POEMS. 49 

WTiere are the friends who were ours at our starting, 
And guarded our footsteps for many a dav, 
Who blest as they gave us the hand at our parting, 
And wept as they thought of the thorns by the way. 

And where is the cottage, the home of our childhood, 
Encircled with wild-vines so lowly and neat, 
The arbor we played in, the flowers, the wildwood ? 
The dearest on earth was that quiet retreat. 

They are gone, all gone, like a dream as we waken ; 
The flowers have withered, the sweet birds have fled ; 
Gone hope, fame and treasure, the casket lies broken : 
Our idols are scattered or mourned with the dead. 

" Such is life : " to-day all its beauty we borrow 
To clothe the bright visions of long future years ; 
Its shadows and gloom mar our pathway to-morrow ; 
No hope, but in heaven, is unmihgled with tears. 



^l)e Caugl) of a Cljili). 

First verse copied from Root & Bradbury's Festival Glee Book, 

" I LOVE it, I love it, the laugh of a child, 
Now rippling and gentle, now merry and wild. 
It rings on the air, with its innocent gush. 
Like the trill of a bird, or the twilight's soft hush, 
It floats on the breeze like the tones of a bell. 
Or the music that dwells in the heart of a shell." 

Chorus : — " Oh, the laugh of a child, so wild and so free, 
Is the merriest sound in the world to me ! " 
Repeat chorus. 
,3 



50 POEMS. 

Second verse added by the Author. 

I love it, I love it, the laugh full and clear, 

Now gayly resounding, now soft on the ear, 

So soothing, so gentle and potent the spell, 

Like the fairy notes borne from some bright sunny dell. 

That laugh is the sun-beam of youth' s happy day. 

And its sweet winning tones will all care drive away. 

Chorus : — " Oh, the laugh of a child, so wild and so free, 
Is the merriest sound in the world to me." 



lUrittcn for tl)c "Sabbatl) Scljool trumpet." 

PUBLISHED BY H. S. P. 

Let the Trumpet's joyful sound 
Swell each heart and tune each voice ; 
Its inspiring notes resound, 
Calling children to rejoice. 

Chorus : — Sound the Trumpet, sound aloud the Trumpet, 
Let its glorious echoes ring ; 
Sound the Trumpet, sound aloud the Trumpet, 
Christ is Saviour, Priest, and King. 

Sweetly on the Sabbath air 
Ring its clear inviting tones, 
Gathering in for praise and prayer 
All the Saviour's countless ones. 

Chorus : — Sound the trumpet, etc. 



POEMS. 5 1 



Gathered at the Trumpet's call, 
Sweetly sing the Saviour's name ; 
He who gave his life for all, 
Blest the children when he came. 

Chorus : — Sound the trumpet, etc. 

Praise him for his wondrous care. 
And the joyful news impart, 
While the Trumpet's tones declare 
Music of a grateful heart. 

Chorus : — Sound the trumpet, etc. 



Softln 51)e Sabtb. 

SET TO MUSIC BY H. S. P. 

Softly she faded, as fatles the summer ; 
Calmly she whispered,^Soon I'll be free ; 
Fair was the morning, early departed, 
Brighter my noon-day, Heaven dawns for me ! 

Chorus : — So 'twas she faded as fades the summer; 
So 'twas she whispered, — Heaven dawns for me. 

Sadly around her, warm tears were falling. 
Gently to soothe her, kind friends were near. 
Sweetly she mui-mured, — Cease, cease your weeping ; 
Heaven's gate is open, — angels are here. 

Chorus : — So 'twas she faded, as fades the summer ; 
So 'twas she whispered, — Angels are here. 



52 POEMS. 



illm0tv£r0 C^oo^ Nigl)t. 

MUSIC BY H. S. P. 

Music, hast thou charms divine, 
That we worship at thy shrine ? 
Now in cadence soft and low, 
Like the ripphng streamlet's flow ; 
Now in chorus full and free, 
Like the ever-sounding sea ; 
Thrilling hearts with pure delight. 
Breathing low a sweet " Good-Night " — 

A sweet " Good-Night." 

Solo. 

List, that gentle fairy strain. 
Borne from some far distant plain ! 
Now it fades as fades the light, 
Voices whisper — all, " Good-Night." 

Yes, all " Good-Night." 

Music, sweetest siren, sings, 
Waking chords on mem'ry's strings j 
Bringing back life's cherished hours 
Fragrant with a thousand flowers. 
All the joys of social song ; 
Dearest joys we would prolong 
Till the hours repose invite, 
Then we bid you all, " Good-Night." 

Yes, all " Good-Night." 



POEMS. 53 



Cincs fov iHusic. 



RESPECTFULLY INSCRIBED TO H. S. P. 

Wilt thou come to me, my dearest 
Come to greet me as of yore, 
When I'm standing on the threshold, 
Looking through the open door 
That shall close my earthly vision 
From the scenes I loved before ? 
Come, oh, come to me, my dearest ; 
Come to meet me as of yore. 

Wilt thou come to me, my dearest, 
Since life's brightest hopes are o'er ? 
All of future joy or pleasure, 
All the fond heart's cherished store, 
Like the summer iiow'rs, are faded 
With the bloom of youth I wore ; 
Yet, oh, come to me, my dearest ; 
Sing the songs I loved once more. 

Wilt thou come to me, my dearest, 
Come to meet me on life's shore, 
As I'm nearing death's dark river. 
While its foam-capped billows roar — 
As I step down in its waters. 
Ne'er to tread the green earth more? 
Come, oh, come to me, my dearest, 
Come to meet mc on that shore. 



54 POEMS. 

Wilt thou come to me, dearest, 
When my heart's last throb is o'er, 
And this form lies cold and silent 
By the river's peaceful shore ; 
When I'm singing with the angels 
Songs I never heard before ? 
Come, then, come to meet me, dearest, 
When thy dream of life is o'er. 



<EI)e (Bxavt of an iFnfant. 

Sleep, little babe, sweet- be thy rest. 
Though not upon thy mother's breast. 

In peaceful, calm repose ; 
But in the silent grave art laid, 
To slumber softly with the dead. 

Nor dream of future woes. 

No mother's song shall lull to sleep, 
Nor anxious care her vigils keep 

Around thy midniglit couch ; 
But whistling winds sigh o'er thy head, 
And stars above thy lonely bed 

Shall keep their nightly watch. 

Sweet one, thy mother oft will sigh 
And, pensive, turn her wandering eye, 

As if to find thee near 
The silent tear-drop sadly tells 
Thine image in her bosom dwells — 

A fairy form still dear. 



POEMS. ^ 55 

Time's changing tide can ne'er erase 
The features of thy fair young face, 

The smile of truth and love, 
" The seal of innocence had set 
Upon thy brow," it lingers yet, 

A type of bliss above. 

And though thy day was fair and bright. 
No grief could mar, no sin could bhght, 

And true a mother's love ; 
Thou'rt gone to seek a brighter shore, 
Where pain and death are felt no more — 

A home of bliss above. 

Sweet babe, a happy change is thine, 
For who, like thee, would not resign 

This life, with all its care, 
If pure and spotless thus to rise, 
And join the blest beyond the skies, 

To dwell forever there ? 



-:o:- 



A PARODY. 

O SWIFT we skate at a jolly rate. 
When moonbeams sparkle round. 

When skates keep time to music's chime, 
As merrily on we bound. 



5^ POEMS. 

• 

On a winter's night, when hearts are Hght, 
Our cares we give the wind ; 

O'er the clear smooth ice we glide so nice, 
And leave the shore behind. 

With laugh and shout we skate about 

Upon the river's breast ; 
Friends by our side, we gayly glide 

Over its sparkling crest. 

The skates for me have joy and glee, 
When gale and storm are o'er ; 

Give me the speed that takes the lead 
And dashes from the shore. 

Then swift we glide o'er the ice-bound tide, 

When hope is on the wing ; 
With moonbeams bright and hearts so light. 

The skater's song we'll sing. 



Song. 

I'lM Standing by the sea, Willie, 
The deep, blue, solemn sea, 

Where just one year ago, WilHe, 
It sang to you and me. 

Although the sea is calm, Willie, 

Its waves go moaning by. 
As though they shared my grief, Willie, 

And answered every sigh. 



POEMS. 57 

And now I weep alone, \\'illie, 

Or linger by the sea, 
To catch some distant sail, Willie, 

Some bark of hope for thee. 

I listen then again, Willie, 

And hear the billows roar, 
But, oh, they sound to me, Willie, 

Like dirges on life's shore. _- 

Perhaps, far o'er tlie sea, Willie, 

Or down in ocean's cave, 
The heart e'er true to me, Willie, 

Lies silent in its grave. 

And shouldst thou ne'er return, Willie, 

To bless thy home and me, 
I'll come thy fate to mourn, Willie, 

And wander by the sea. 



-:o:- 



^n ^liliress to tlje |3l)ilomatl)cait Socictu of |3, 

AT ITS REASSEMBLING AFTER THE WAR. 
Read by E. G. C, February, 1865. 

In life's changing drama, again on its stage, 
We greet the companions of years that are flown ; 
But events which were written on memory's page 
Glow on the long record — no fragment is gone. 
3* • 



58 POEMS. 

We meet, but not all ; * some have gone to their rest 
From life's battle-field, its turmoil and care, 
To the haven of peace, the home of the blest, 
Ne'er to greet us on earth, or our friendship to share. 

And where are the heroes, undaunted and true. 
Who in fancy are with us, whose presence we feel ? 
We grasp at the hand ! but they vanish from view, 
And the void in our bosom no solace can heal. 

Yet our country will bless them — will hallow the grave 
Where the patriot soldier in honor may rest ; 
Though it takes from our circle the noble and brave — 
Though it tears from our heart-strings the truest and best. 

Our Country — a subject how solemn, sublime, — 
What pen paint her woes — what volume contain ? 
Can human thought reckon in all coming time 
The sum of her treasures, her life-blood and pain ? 

Unhallowed rebellion, thy traitorous hand 
Has dared at the Union to aim a death-blow ! 
To blot out the stars from the Flag of our land. 
And the temple of Freedom attempt to o'erthrow ! 

Though her story is sad, and the nation still weeps, 
And faces familiar may ne'er smile again. 
Yet the Ruler of Nations our destiny keeps ; 
He shapes not his course in the wisdom of men. 

Here again, 'mid the joys and the blessings of life, 
We mingle in social reunion to-night, 
Our voices and thoughts, far from battle's rude strife, 
Each sharing anew ev'ry hope or delight. 

^* Colonel Marsh, of Potsdam Academy. 



POEMS. 59 

May the blessings of Heaven still on us descend, 
Union, freedom and peace, our interests bind ; 
May cordial communion and harmony blend 
In the current of soul and the treasures of mind ! 



Ctncs 

On the death of John A. Fulton, July 13, 1858, aged thirty-six years. 

Dearest Brother, the first link is broken, 
And severed the family chain. 
The last sad adieu has been spoken, 
And ne'er shall be whispered again. 

The ties that so long and so tightly 

In truest affection were bound. 

And wishes and hopes that beamed brightly, 

Are severed or dashed to the ground. 

The warm hand of friendship was proffered, 
And feeling hearts beat with thine own. 
All that life could bestow thee was offered, 
No charm could retain — thou art gone ! 

Though fair was the future before thee. 
And strong in thy manhood's first prime, 
Golden lamps of ambition hung o'er thee, 
Unchilled was thy vigor by time ; 

Yet no power could revoke the decision 
Which bade thee to sleep thy last sleep, 
And closed to earth's prospects thy vision, 
And gave her cold bosom to keep. 



6o POEMS. 

'Twas sad, as we left thee to slumber 
In thy grave by the river so lone, 
Ne'er to greet the lost one of our number 
Till time with earth's burdens is flown. 

Yet just, we relinquish the treasure — 
The spirit — to Him who first gave. 
Oh yes, we would bow at His pleasure, 
Though all our hopes lie in the grave. 

Even there we beheld while we bore him, 
A type in the " Evergreen " true, 
As the " Order of Brothers" bent o'er him 
To take their last solemn adieu. 

Though no more on the banks of life's river 
We'll meet the dear friend of our youth, 
Yet again may Ave meet, ne'er to sever, 
Where all is joy, peace, light and truth. 

We loved thee, thy mem'ry we'll cherish, 
Thy friendship so warm, true and deep, 
Thy greeting and smile will ne'er perish, 
Till we in earth's bosom shall sleep. 



^ 



gcTmc of Cl)ilM)oolr. 

Yes, home of childhood ! at the sound 
Mem'ry's treasures thronging come ; 
Again the merry laugh and bound 
Among the group of childhood's home. 



POEMS. 

Again a father's smile is bright ; 

A mother's love again appears ; 

(A love no chill or change can blight), 

A star undimmed through mists of years. 

A brother's voice again is heard, 
That oft in merry carol broke ; 
Again a sister's smile, that cheered 
With gentler sway if sorrow woke. 

Again the voice and song of glee, 
When tuneful wild-bird flitted by ; 
When watching close the honey-bee, 
Or chasing swift the butterfly. 

The joyous sports of sunny youth, 
The long-loved bower of wild-grape shade, 
Where cheerful notes of love and truth 
Were sweet by answering echo made. 

Again those scenes of Hght and song, 
Around the heart their witchery fling ; 
Dear scenes of rapture ! ye shall long 
Your early dreams of sweetness bring. 

Yes, home of childhood ! in thy name 
Dwell fairy visions of the past ; 
Youth, love and hope seem still the same, 
As when your shelter blest me last. 

Oh ! could those scenes of early home 
O'er future years forever dwell ! 
That, should a cloud of darkness come, 
Their sunny morn would night dispel ! 



6i 



62 POEMS. 



ilictorg. 



Shout Victory— shout Victory ! 
Let all Columbia's sons rejoice; 
A nation great — a nation free — 
Shout with united heart and voice ! 

Fling ev'ry banner to the breeze — 
Loud let the booming cannon roar — 
Wake up the isles beyond the seas, 
And onward let the " Eagle " soar ! 

Tell to the world Columbia's free ! 
"Queen of the boundless sea" she reigns, 
More glorious in her victory, 
Triumphant over treason's stains ! 

Rejoice, ye freemen — all rejoice ! 
Ring out, ye bells, your merry chime — 
Let ev'ry heart and ev'ry voice 
Be tuned to strike the chord sublime ! 

Hope of all nations, light of years — 
What honors gem thy starry crown ! 
The dawn of thy new day appears — 
Thrice happy day of high renown. 

The unclouded sun of liberty 

Has risen, to shed for all his beams ; 

Columbia's glorious destiny 

In ev'ry beauteous banner gleams ! 



POEMS. 63 

The clouds of war have rolled away ! 
No battle sound — no bondman's cries ! 
No rebel host in bold array, 
For freedom lives — and treason dies ! 

O God of nations ! — Power divine ! — 
We bow before thy righteous will ; 
The praise, the glory — all are thine, 
For thou hast spoken, " Peace, be still." 



®l)c ^m^lvc of illcmoru. 

How oft, when the cares and the toils of the day 
Are hushed in the deep, silent beauty of night, 
And the spirit is eagerly soaring away 
To some star in the distance, all glowing and bright — 

There comes in sweet whispers and shadows, yet true, 
The chime of loved voices — the songs of the past ; 
And hopes early withered their freshness renew. 
And friends smile as fondly as when they smiled last. 

Thus the empire of mem'ry, unrivalled, retains 
Her walls and her towers of granite and gold, 
Where the sunbeams still rest — and their halo remains 
To reflect all the past with a lustre untold. 



64 POEMS. 



The fragrant flowers of beauty rare 
Unfolding in the summer air, 
The breath of morn, the sparkling dew, 
The song of birds, the sky's deep blue. 
May charm the weary heart awhile. 
Or sorrow's tedious hours beguile ; 
But what can soothe the aching brain, 
Or charm away the spirit's pain ? 
Whose hidden anguish makes its moan 
Down in its own deep cell, alone, 
And rears an altar to despair, 
And bids its slave pay homage there ! 
The blighted tree may never bloom ; 
Or withered flower avert its doom ; 
The human heart's a tender shrine. 
Its main-spring hope — a lamp divine ; 
But when its light has left the sky. 
The highest, noblest aim will die. 
Such darkness knows no cheering light ; 
No star to gem the brow of night, 
With genial ray to gild its gloom, 
Or cheer life's journey to the tomb ; 
E'en memory forgets at last 
To wake bright visions of the past, 
To cull from fairest, freshest flowers, 
To strew the grave of buried hours ; 
And life is but a withered thing 
Round which no bud of hope may cling, 
No leaf, no flower to blossom there, 
Beneath the pall of grim despair ! 



POEMS. 65 



fvancts* 

Ofti'IMES I meet upon my way 

A merry little maiden, 
With smile as bright as welcome May, 

And cheek with blushes laden. 

And yet as oft I love to meet 
This timid, artless creature ; 

For innocence, the charm so sweet. 
Beams forth in ev'ry feature. 

I love to gaze into those eyes — 
So dark and full of meaning, 

A world of priceless treasure lies 
Within their lustrous screening. 

Though many boast a face more fair, 
Or form of queenly splendor ; 

Adorned with wealth or beauty rare, 
Or fame the world may tender ; 

More fair to me the purer gem 
Of modest worth, some token. 

And richer than a diadem 

Are words in kindness spoken. 

For ever from the heart's deep cell 
A fountain fresh is flowing, 

And warm emotions, pure and true, 
Are on its altar glowing. 



66 POEMS. 

Though dull her ear to coarser sounds 
Which jar the finest feeling ; 

Yet gentle words and music low 
Come o'er her senses stealing. 

. Though all agree to call her " Frank," 
It may be justly given ; 
Yet would I choose a name to rank 
With Grace or Hope, near heaven. 

But should I meet, as oft I'll greet 
This maid in youthful gladness ; 

The voice I love, the smile so sweet, 
Will cheer me though in sadness. 

And when from earthly cares awhile 
I bend in calm devotion, 

I'll ask that Heaven for her may smile, 
When safely o'er life's ocean. 



:o:- 



Song— Conu, Sign tl)c J3le^ge. 

Come, sign the pledge, ye friends of wine, 
The temperance pledge, and with us join ; 
We'll share with each the social glass, 
Let not our proffered friendship pass. 

The simple off 'ring which we bring, 
Is but cold water from the spring ; 
Yet clear and sparkling as the dew, 
As gentle and refreshing too. 



POEMS. 



67 



No blighted hopes, no torturing pam ; 
No raging thirst, no burning brain, 
Pursue the man who'll ever be 
From tyrant Alco-hol set free. 

The vilest bondage he maintains 
Who stoops to wear those slavish chains ; 
Then sign the pledge, and break his yoke. 
Resolve — and aid from Heav'n invoke. 

We'll pledge you in the friendly glass. 
Your former follies we will pass ; 
And welcome each with heart and hand 
A brother in our temperance band. 

Our social joys alike we share, 
To lighten ev'ry brother's care. 
In harmless glee the song we sing 
Is pure cold water from the spring. 

Come, ye who never taste the wine, 
The temperance pledge will you not sign ? 
To aid a cause so good and great, 
Stay not to reason and debate. 

Your peaceful home to you is dear. 
Then help some friendless home to cheer ; 
Come join our ranks, and help to bring 
This crystal water from the spring. 

To see fair virtue's temple rise 
In grace and beauty to the skies ; 
A good foundation we must lay. 
To stand the storms of life's rough day. 



68 POEMS. 

We must secure the corner-stone 
By faith and temperance alone ; 
And guard each wall from ruin's brink 
By putting in a timely chink. 

Come ye who seek your brother's weal, 
And sign the pledge if ye would heal 
The sorrows that from drinking flow, 
Example and then precept show. 

Then come and join the temperance band, 
" And strong in union we will stand," 
And firm in friendship we will sing 
Of good old Roger Williams' spring. 



Q'lias lUvigljt. 

VOLUNTEER TOAST. 

His name, on the page of his country enrolled, 
Is as bright as the halo round liberty's altar ; 
Unstained by a blemish, his virtues unfold 
In his public career, for his mind cannot falter, 
But, firm as the oak, he is true to his trust ; 
The friend of his country, the wise and the just. 



POEMS. 69 



Uloman's Uigl^ts. 

Written 1852. Perhaps appropriate at tliat time. 

What's woman's right ? Is it to face 
A threatening foe in war's embrace, 
To wield the sword 'mid cannon's roar, 
Win laurels dyed in human gore ? 
Can she the ocean's terrors brave, 
And guide the vessel o'er the w^ave. 
When shivering winds with angry sweep 
Convulse and rock the mighty deep ? 
Could timid woman tirmly stand 
At duty's post, or give command 
To battle on in fearful strife 
With elements that threaten life ? 
Or could ambitious woman scan 
The depths of Art, and nicely plan 
Those laws that show the chemist's skill, 
In changing substances at will ? 
Or could she boast mechanic power 
To frame the wheel or mould the tower ? 
Did she the use of steam suggest ? 
The mighty engine's power test ? 
Or with an astronomic eye ' 
E'er measure worlds in yonder sky? 
Or make the lightning o'er our head 
Run errands in a post-boy's stead ? 
Has woman strength for rugged toil 
To swing the axe or plough the soil ? 
To gather in the precious hoard, 
And rival thus creation's lord ? 



70 POEMS. 

Should she in Congress hall aspire, 
With wit and eloquence to fire 
The stately dome ! in long debate 
Discuss the needs of every State : 
'Tis sure she'd break foul slavery's chain, 
No tyrant should usurp her reign ! 
But could she wisely at the helm, 
Preserve the union of the realm ? 

These are not woman's rights, no, no ! 

Her heart would shrink to face the foe, 

Fear would unnerve her puny arm 

At sight of blood — at war's alarm. 

She ne'er could skim the briny deep 

When rough old ocean's tempests sweep, 

And scatter shroud, and spar, and sail ; 

Her hope would sink, her heart would quail. 

'Tis true, among the works of i\rt 

And genius she may act her part, 

But through invention's wonders who 

Among the 'sex could man outdo ? 

Frail woman's form could not endure 

Fatigue and labor, to procure 

Food from the soil ; her task were done 

Ere half her race of life was run. 

Nor is it woman's place to shine 

In Congress hall ; though wit divine 

Flowed from her tongue, her feelings would 

(Not sense) control the pubhc good. 

'Tis more ennobling to the race 

That man should hold the highest place 

In council chamber — frame the laws 

From which each State its honor di^aws. 

Has woman, then, no right to name ? 



POEMS. 71 

No rule — no sov'reignty to claim ? 

Yes — every right she may contend 

Which nature, wisdom could demand. 

Petition is her right — to plead ! 

In every cause she may succeed 

Where reason, justice, hold a claim, 

In mercy or in pity's name. 

The hill of science she may tread. 

By industry, ambition led, 

To scatter learning, knowledgewide — 

Her country's wisdom is her pride. 

'Tis woman's right the pen to wield. 

And roam unchecked the world's wide field; 

To unroll the page of freedom bright, 

And spread abroad truth's sacred light. 

Here genius may in flight sublime 

Soar onward with the wing of time. 

And cull from fairest, choicest flowers 

That ever graced Elysian bowers. 

In holy temple now are sung 

Strains from woman's genius sprung ; 

Its range no limit knows on earth. 

For genius had immortal birth. 

What influence may woman yield 

With wisdom, virtue, truth her shield : 

To conquer vice, disarm its lord — 

" The pen is mightier than the sword." 

If in fair woman's heart combined 

Were all the virtues, well refined, 

She'd rule and reign with sov' reign power, 

The empire of the world her dower ! 

'Tis wrong that women should complain, 

And for their "Rights" assert their claim, 

Unbounded sources for the mind 



72 POEMS. 

Are to the sex by Heaven assigned. 

For woman's strength there's ample room 

In duties that surround her home ; 

Home — yes, 'tis there the virtues blend 

In wife or mother, daughter, friend. 

A dreary cottage may become 

A sure retreat, a happy home, 

By woman's aid, a place of rest 

For weary hearts by care oppressed. 

Who could such daring courage show 

In sorrow's gloom, in bitter woe ? 

She gently, firmly acts her part. 

And cheers with hope the sinking heart : 

Or if disease, with surest aim. 

Has checked the step or bowed the frame, 

Whose voice like woman's voice can soothe ? 

Whose hand like hers the pillow smooth ? 

And yet a higher, holier tie 

Is lent to woman from on high : 

A mother's pure, unchanging love, 

The love no other heart can move. 

Is not the charge to her consigned 

To form and guide the immortal mind ? 

Yes — she has power to sow in youth 

The seeds of innocence and truth. 

The power to sway the human will. 

And all the virtues to instil ; 

Tlie intellect to cultivate, 

And cherish all that's good and great. 

Can woman higher honors claim ? 

Can she aspire to loftier fame ? 

Nor are these all — to her 'tis given 

To train the immortal soul for Heaven ! 



POEMS. 73 

TO JANE. 

Dost thou request one thought of mine, to mark life's 

checkered page, 
While passing through its changing scenes — an actor on 

its stage ? 
To wake one strain of pleasing song, could I but strike 

the lyre, 
The glowing theme of friendship should my wayward pen 

inspire. 

In this strong chain that binds the heart are linked the 
dearest ties 

That claim our warm emotions, and exert our sympathies ; 

Then let us cull from choicest flowers, to twine the unfad- 
ing wreath 

Round friendship's altar, and to her our offerings bequeath. 

How oft, while sailing over life's sea, upon its billows tost. 
The brilliant star of cheering hope oft seems forever lost. 
And threatening waves dash wildly round the path-direct- 
ing helm, 
And stormy winds that drift the bark, with dangers over- 
whelm. 

And thus our lot is marked with change while passing 

through life's vale, 
Sometimes the smiles of bliss are ours when pleasure swells 

the gale ; 
4 



74 POEMS. 

Again an aching lieart we hide, the mournful willow weave, 
And tune the harp to plaintive notes, the sigh to memory 
heave. 

Then O how blest, when fortune smiles, to own a faithful 

friend, 
Whose joys, whose hopes, whose smiles with ours in unison 

may blend ; 
But dearer far is friendship's tear in griefs sad lonely hour, 
Oh yes, 'tis then her welcome voice soothes with a magic 

power ! 

Yes, let us cherish in the heart pure friendship's sacred 

flame. 
Among the richest, rarest gifts which erring man may claim ; 
The boon cannot be prized too high, if in the gift we trace 
The Source from whence our blessings spring — the Hand 

that gave them place. 



®l)e Cigl)t on tl)e Itlater. 

'TwAS a calm summer's evening, 

All nature was still. 
Save the mumiur of waters, 

Or hum of the mill. 

The toil-worn and weary 
Were seeking repose ; 

Or ranging the dream-land 
Which slumber bestows. 



POEMS. 75 



The moon had forsaken 

Our beautiful sky, 
But for others in splendor 

Was shining on high. 

The evening was lovely 
With mild starry light ; 

And fragrant the verdure 
With dews of the night. 

The dark Oswegatchie 

Swept softly along ; 
Not a wave on its bosom 

To drown its low song. 

I stood by its border 
To watch the star-rays ; 

When the Lights * on the water 
Attracted my gaze. 

From across the deep river 
They shone on the stream, 

Now glist'ning, now dancing. 
With glimmering beam. 

A beautiful mirror 

Spread out on the deep, 
Its lights gently resting, 

Like sunbeams asleep. 

I gazed on the mirror, 

And thought of life's stream ; 
Its lights and its shadows, 

How varied they seem ! 

* Gas-lights. 



76 POEMS. 

As I thought of the ferry — 
Of hfe's weary oar — 

Of death's narrow river — 
Of nearing the shore — 

The hope in my bosom 
Grew stronger and free — 

That a " Light on the water" 
Was shining for me ! 



(gpitapl) foi- lllillte f. 

A BUD to bloom upon life's path, 

A precious gem was given ; 
And love and hope had twined their wreath 

Around the gift from Heaven. 
But "soon death's angel sought the prize, 

Nor feared the bud to sever, 
That it might bloom in Paradise ; 

A gem to shine forever ! 



Jar S. (S. 

'Tis hard to resign 

The bud that was given ; 
But shall we repine ? — 

It blossoms in heaven. 



POEMS. 77 



Jor flattie J. 

Thou'rt gone, loved youth — gone to thy rest, 
True,-gentle, good, a fair young flower, 

Ere sin defiled or care oppressed ; 

Thy suff' rings o'er, death lost its power ! 

We loved thee, we mourn, but bow to the rod, 

Knowing thy spirit has gone to its God. 



:o:- 



JOV 0. 



BY REQUEST. 



We loved and we cherished him, 

Fondly and true ; 
Around him were clust'ring 

Hopes ever new ; 
But, alas ! has-the vision 

Faded and flown, 
And now with the angels, 

Sings round the throne. 



78 POEMS. 



Jov 1. I. 



Whatever mortals think or feel, 
God only knows our future weal ; 
And he alone can rest secure, 
Whose faith on Christ the Rock is sure. 



How blessed to know that the dark lonely tomb 
Can hold but the dust of the loved one we cherished ; 
Her spirit now triumphs in heaven's own bloom, 
Surpassing in beauty the vision that perished. 



Jor ill. or. 

Dark and lonely in the grave 
Lie our fondest hopes for thee ; 

But we trust His power to save, 
Who has set thy spirit free. 



POEMS. 79 



©0 a Ji'ienli'a Jamiln. 

Think not I'll forget your kindness and care, 

When your faces no more I may view ; 
Not till memory has closed its career, 

And time shall my powers subdue ; 
I ne'er can those pleasures express, 

I've enjoyed in your peaceful abode ; 
May my gratitude never be less — 

Imperfectly though it's displayed ! 



flUisic. 

Music — sweet music, there's naught can compare 
With thy winning tones on the still midnight air ; 
When nature, awakened, in beauty is drest, 
And the silvery moonbeams on all love to rest. 

It falls on the ear as the dew on the flower. 

Awaking to life with its own magic power ; 

It sheds o'er the spirit a mystical balm, 

And the heart's wild emotions grow peaceful and calm. 

It stirs up the fountain of memory's streams. 
And brings back the freshness of life's early dreamg, 
A.S the darkness and gloom of the murkiest day 
Disperse with the sunshine and breezes at play. 



8o POEMS. 

Thus with hfe's panorama, its mountains and glades 
On the canvas will move, in its lights and its shades ; 
So the mists and the shadows that fall on the heart, 
At thy bidding, sweet music, take wings and depart. 



Weep for the beautiful, 
Gone in life's bloom*; 

Weep for the loveliest, 
Borne to the tomb. 

Weep for the patriot, 

Noble and brave ; 
The strong arm of manhood 

Laid in the grave. 

Weep for the mother, 
Warm tears, 'tis meet ; 

Earth has no treasure, 
Laid at thy feet, 

To equal affection 

Living for thee. 
That clings like the ivy, 

Though bare the tree. 

Weep not for the aged. 

Gathered to rest 
From life's weary burdens, 

Home with the blest. 



POEMS. 8 1 



Weep not for the infant — 

Beautiful star — 
In the crown of the Saviour 

Shining afar. 

And weep not the Christian, 

Resting his oar ; 
He's breasted the billows, 

Gained the bright shore. 



gong of tl)c *' (Lotnl 'Tlbstuunce flTan." 

Once more, once more my pulse beats high 
With health, with vigor and with life ; 

The tempter's arts I now defy. 

And scorn the haunts of vice and strife. 

Once more my country's weal is mine, 
Devoted, firm my stand shall be ; 

I'll meet the foe and gladly join 
To plant the standard of the free. 

Once more I'll breathe the vital air. 
And in God's image walk erect ; 

No more the bonds of slavery wear. 
But firmly all her arts reject. 

Once more, to aid my brother man, 
I'll pledge my name on yon fair sheet. 

Upon the " Total Abstinence plan," 

When friends of peace and virtue meet. 
4* 



82 POEMS. 

Once more I'll seek my own loved home, 
With spirit light from cheerful toil, 

I'll court content, nor seek to roam. 
And scorn the intoxicating bowl. 

Cheered by the partner of my toil, 
My aim shall be her lot to bless ; 

No frown shall meet her waiting smile, 
No revels break her midnight rest. 

And, seated by my own fireside, 

My prattling babes may climb my knee ; 

Their artless sports I will not chide. 
Nor e'er reprove their noise and glee. 

Ah, what has brought this happy change ? 

A friend I read in every face. 
Kind words from those who were estranged, 

And looks of hope and trust I trace. 

But, oh, it is my home that tells 

A change that makes my spirit light ; 

Domestic happiness now dwells 

Where all was veiled in sorrow's night. 



Ye come, ye come from a far distant clime. 
Your bounding is light as the wing of time ; 
Ye have danced on shores of the sunny Nile, 
And breathed the fragrance of India's Isle. 



POEMS. 83 

Ye come with a voice, as ye sweep along, 
That tells of a land of beauty and song ; 
Ye have sipped of sweets 'neath Araby's sky. 
And drunk the pure air of mild Italy. 

Ye come, and your welcome is known full well 
As ye waft the tones of the Sabbath bell ; 
And sweetly at eve is your breathing heard, 
As ye chant the notes of the summer bird. 

Ye come, and a spell of enchantment fling, 
As strains of some distant music ye bring ; 
Your sighing falls sweetly, as falls on the ear 
The voice of the loved, to jnemory dear. 

Ye come to welcome the birthday of Spring, 
Mild breezes with freshest odors ye bring ; 
Ye come again when the Summer is nigh, 
With refreshing balm, 'neath the sultry sky. 

Again ye come, and the low rustling sound 
Of the autumn leaf, as it nears the ground. 
Sings a mournful requiem, yet sweeter far 
Than sound of the viol or light guitar. 

Full well may ye claim the poet's warm lay, 

As ye sing in his bower at close of day, 

Or sweep through his lattice where wild vines creep, 

Awaking fresh thought from its fountain deep. 



84 POEMS. 

tribute to tl)c iUcmorn of iHargavct fllrlDoiucll. 

Died at Waddington, November, 1848, aged twenty-foar years. 

Departed one, who does not mourn for thee ? 

Though time, with restless wing, hath onward sped 

Since the sad sound of the last knell was heard, 

That told thy faded form was borne away 

To rest among the dead ; yet only time 

Thy loss can tell. Who would aspire to hymn 

Thy worth nor do thee wrong ? We can but mourn ;. 

Methinks an angel's pen were only meet 

To shadow forth the beauties of the soul ; 

For virtues such as thine are not among 

The common things of earth ; they have their birth 

In heaven, to heaven return. 

Long will thy memory live, dear to the heart 

Of every schoolmate : kindness was thy law 

If some sad child, who, by misfortune marked, 

Neglected sat in silence or did weep ; 

So quick to note, thy sympathy was stirred. 

For thou couldst "feel another's woe," and thence 

Would softly soothe, or seek to heal the wound ; 

And if some truant, reckless of the rules, 

Were doomed to punishment, with pity moved, 

Wouldst strive to arrest the blow or check its force ; 

And often wouldst thou share thy teacher's toils, 

Impart instruction to the younger class. 

With ceaseless care, unmindful all of self. 

The Sabbath-school, where weekly thou wast seen 

With cheerful smile — with pious hope and trust — 

Thine aim to lead the infant heart to Heaven, 



POEMS. 85 

Doth miss thee ; and the sanctuary, where 

Thy soul did feed upon the bread of hfe, 

In answering echo, but repeats — She's gone ! 

Yet more we miss thee in the house of prayer; 

That voice is silent now, so oft we heard 

Ascending to thy Heavenly Father's throne 

In holy fervor and unshaken faith ; 

For thou didst love to worship at His feet — 

Who taught thy soul to reverence thy God ; 

The meekest of the meek — didst follow close 

Thy Saviour's footsteps ; and thy tuneful voice 

Was ever wont to sound thy Maker's praise, 

Making " rich melody " in tones so sweet. 

They linger yet upon the ear ! Thy home, 

Oh ! 'tis thy home that tells a loved one gone ! 

Yes, thou art missed by every household tie ! 

Ah, who can be unto thine aged sire 

Like his devoted child ? Thy mother, too. 

Who loved thee with a mother's love, doth mourn 

Her last and dearest one ! How had they hoped 

That as the vine, that twines itself around 

The aged oak, more closely chngs when time 

Has laid his withering hand upon its bloom 

And foliage ; or as the evening dew 

That gently falls upon the parched leaf 

Which by the scorching heat of day had drooped. 

And almost shrunk from life, renews again 

Its bloom and lengthens its existence ; thus 

They hoped thou still hadst been the comfort of 

Their age, and cheered their pathway to the tomb ! 

Ah ! who shall smooth their dying pillow ? Who, 

With gentle step and voice subdued, shall seek 

To gratify the smallest wish, and feel 

With deepest tenderness their every pang ? 



86 ■ POEMS. 

And doth tiiat " orphan " meek, intrusted to 
Thy guardianshi]), e'er miss or mourn for thee ? 
We may not ask ; she only Hngers here, 
And, hke the stricken dove, doth daily droop, 
•As though life were a burden hard to bear 
Without thy fostering love — so like thyself, 
So gentle, true and good, she soon will reach 
That blest abode where love forever reigns. 
How lone, how vacant now that seat around 
The fireside altar, where the tones of prayer 
And praise were sweetly mingled, making glad 
The heart, while thus was grateful incense borne 
To hefven's eternal throne. 

Oh, not alone 
Thy kindred mourn — one general sorrow all, 
All doth feel, for who hath known and loved thee not ? 
Have we not seen thee round the dying bed 
Bestowing comfort, through the lone drear night, 
A patient, never-tiring watcher ? Yes, 
For where did not thy footsteps bend if thou 
Couldst lighten but one pang, or couldst relieve 
The mourner's burden, mercy's angel sent 
To soothe the afflicted heart — to point to heaven. 
Oh ! how unlike the votary of pride 
And fashion, whose whole world is pent up in 
The narrow sphere that bounds her selfish joys, 
Whose mind hath never soared beyond this earth, 
Nor sought enduring bliss at God's right hand. 
No selfish thought hath ever stirred the fount 
From whence the springs of action emanate 
Which prompted thee to deeds of love. Faith 
Was the star that led, and taught thee how to die ! 
Oh, victor Death ! thy fatal messenger, 
Consumption, thou hast sent to bear her hence. 



POEMS. 

Tis ever thus that she doth seek the good, 
The lovely of the earth, as though to feed 
On coarser fare were but a paltry deed ! 
But be her errand done ; we know 'tis vain 
To question thee — enough for us to know 
Her Saviour called her, and we should but act 
A faithless part to murmur at the call. 
For God, who sent the gift, takes but His own ; 
His will be done ; we only ask that as 
A ministering angel she may hover near. 
To cheer, to lead us in the way to heaven. 



^0 tl)c (!:ticiung Star. 

Beautiful Star, 
A faithful watcher, thou dost take thy place 
First in the train of night, as if to guard 
With equal grace those millions of bright orbs 
That now shine forth in beauteous array, 
To roam in majesty die evening sky. 
And deck with brilliancy the vault of heaven 
Until the moon, in queenlike beauty, spreads 
Her silver mantle o'er the vast expanse, 
Diffusing light and beauty o'er the earth, 
Yet not diminishing thy loveliness. 
Bright star — but as a friend and guardian, 
She takes her place at last close by thy side. 
And thus ye wander on till both are sunk 
Behind the summits of the western hills. 

How oft the mariner. 
When tossed upon the billows rude, doth gaze 



88 POEMS. 

With fondest hope on thee, for thus he thinks 
That other eyes are gazing, and this bears 
• Him on to reach his home and those he loves. 
The soldier, too, when day's rough battle's o'er, 
And peaceful evening reigns sole conqueror ; 
With grateful heart for life prolonged, he leaves 
His tent to wander forth, and gaze upon 
The still calm grandeur of the unclouded sky ; 
Yet 'tis to thee he turns with fondest look, 
For mem'ry brings the hours back on his thoughts, 
When, 'neath thy rays, in converse oft with her 
His soul holds dear, the moments swiftl}^ flew ; 
Impressed with the resemblance of thy meek. 
Unconscious beauty, lingers long, nor heeds 
The lateness of the hour, till by the guard 
He's warned to take his needful share of rest 
And be prepared to meet the coming day. 
Nor yet to books or studied arts confined. 
The scholar takes his evening round. 
To breathe once more the pure, free air of heaven. 
And live awhile with nature, there to dwell 
In undisturbed repose, far from the scenes 
Of strife and turmoil, from the anxious cares 
Which fill and crowd the busy world, till lost 
In contemplation, when thy rays — pure star — 
So mildly bright, arrest his gaze, and call 
Those aspirations forth of fame or bliss 
Most treasured in the heart, and which doth feed 
With fairy visions of delight when thought 
Is free, and animated hope soars high. 
'Tis then, sweet star, thy influence fills the heart 
With meek devotion and wath calm content. 
Ah, who could gaze on thy simplicity, 
And not be mute ? And when the passions rise 



POEMS. 

With wild impetuous force, and earth grows dark, 
And hope's expiring rays but dimly shine, 
'Tis sweet to leave the bleak, cold scenes of earth, 
To skim the mountain's top with thee, and roam 
In fairer, brighter worlds, more near to heaven. 



:o:- 



The United Republic in all its broad length, 

May we honor and guard it, a watch-word of power, 

A beacon, a tower, a bulwark of strength, 

To shield and protect when fierce battle-clouds lower. 

Be its principles pure as the water that flows 
In our own noble river, resistless and free, 
Wearing deejjer and broader as onward it goes, 
Till its waters are mingled in one mighty sea. 

So onward advancing, and true in their course. 
May wisdom and justice unite to defend. 
Till oppression and discord are stayed at their source, 
And truth, love and mercy in harmony blend. 

Kind Heaven, forbid that the life-blood should flow 
Again in the struggle for freedom ; but save 
The most precious boon thou hast granted below — 
The rights of the free and those rights for the slave. 

Tong, long be the altar the Pilgrims once reared, 
And hallowed to freedom, religion and truth ; 
By their offspring be cherished, by freemen revered, 
As the glory of age and the guide-star of youth. 



90 POEMS. 



temptation. 

Fair siren, Temptation ! 

How winning your smile ; 
Your words, like sweet music, 

How prone to beguile ! 

The tempter is weaving 

A soft silken chain, 
And tighter he binds it, 

Till thousands are slain. 

The arm that is mighty 
Can vanquish the foe, 

The heavenly spirit 

Can shield from each blow. 

Then seek ye true wisdom 
And strength from above, 

Resisting temptation 

Through faith in Christ's love. 



£icil)t tijrougl) t!]c Storm. 

When the tempest's abroad and the bark's on the sea, 

And the billows in wildest commotion 
Toss their foam-crested numbers in maniac glee 

While paying the storm-king devotion ; 



POEMS. 91 

And when the frail bark is ingulfed in the spray, 
When the stars in thick darkness are shrouded ; 

The heart that is sinking beats wild with dismay, 
As the past in the present is crowded ! 

Ah, who can describe the emotions that rise, 

As a light dimly gleams o'er the water ; 
Or a star twinkles out from its home in the skies, 

Like a signal of peace 'mid war's slaughter? 

'Tis thus in life's voyage, when tempests affright. 

And the bark with life's sorrows is riven ; 
How cheering and welcome is hope's beacon light, 

Or faith's star ever beaminc in heaven. 



mn llMlb llinc I3oii)cr. 

Oh, sweet is my bower at the closing of day. 
When the bustle and din of the village is still ; 
When the sun is just shedding his last parting lay, 
And tingeing with beauty the sky and the hill. 

And sweet is my bower when the evening dews fall, 
To bathe the vine blossoms and sweetbrier near ; 
More rich in their fragrance and dearer than all 
The perfumes that scent the gay hall of a peer. 

When the soft breeze of twilight comes dancing along 
Through the festoons of foliage that hang o'er my head, 
How lovely the notes of the whippoorwill's song, 
As he chants to the eve from his favorite abode. 



92 POEMS. 

And sweet is my bower as I linger to gaze 
On the stars that are peeping far o'er the bkie sky, 
Looking down on the earth with their mild, pensive rays, 
Still roaming in silence the regions on high. 



Yes, dear to this heart is my sweet wild vine bower ; 
A child, I first loved in its shadow to dwell ; 
Though years have flown by since childhood's bright hour. 
My thoughts wander back to the bower loved so well. 



lUminisc£nc£0. 



How oft as o'er life's sea we glide, and on its billows tost. 
The star of hope, a beacon true, shines dimly or is lost ; 
We turn and turn, no ray appears, for thickening mists 

between 
Obscure the beacon, as we glide far down life's starless 

stream. 

Then struggling with the threatening waves, the heart, in 

its, unrest. 
Seeks once again its distant home, as seeks the dove its 

nest, 
To nestle there 'mid cherished scenes, meet with the loved 

and true 
Of youth's fair, happy morn again, when life was bright 

as new. 



POEMS. 93 

Thus memory ever opes her stores of freshest, fairest 

flowers, 
To cheer the sinking heart, to bide Hfe's waste of weary 

hours ; 
Till all its toils and wasting cares are met and measured o'er ; 
The summit reached, the haven gained, the faithful bark 

ashore. 



3. C. Mict, 

No more shall we list to thy sweet pensive lay, 
Nor hear the low notes of thy spirit-harp's song, 

In a soft mellow cadence its tones die away; 

One sweet voice is silent — one harp is unstrung. 

Were life's hopes and joys or its burdens the theme, 
At the shrine of true genius — oh, yes, we would bow ; 

But the well-spring of feeling — the heart's gushing stream, 
In rich melting pathos is thrilling us now. 

Alas ! thou art gone, as a star from our sky, 
No more to shed o'er us its mild silver beam ; 

Yet brighter by far thou art shining on high, 

In the "Beautiful Land" of thy spirit's young dream. 

And the low distant music, so sweet to thine ear, 
Now across the cold river in full chorus breaks, 

The angels, unveiled, no\v more lovely appear. 
And the soul's clouded vision to glory awakes. 



94 POEMS. 

Farewell — though no more we may measure thy lay, 
As our harp wakes the echoes from memory's store 

One chord shall be thine till its notes die away — 
Till life's harp is shattered, and vibrates no more. 



®l)£ Soutl) lllm^. 

When the warm south winds are blowing 
In the twilight's stillness deep ; 

And the hum — the ebb and flowing 
Of life's tide is hushed to sleep, 

Then is heard a low, sweet singing. 
And the rustling leaves keep time, 

While the varied notes are ringing 
With a sad or merry chime. 

Sing ye of a land of beauty, 
Of its fragrant, lovely bowers, 

Of its homes of wealth and splendor, 
'Midst the richest fruits and flowers? 

Sing ye of the dark-eyed maiden. 
In that sunny southern clime ; 

Face and form that well might rival 
Sculptor's art or poet's rhymef 

Sing ye of the halls of grandeur, 
Sparkling wit and flowing wine. 

Dazzling with a thou san(? tapers, 
Beauty, fashion, pleasure's shrinec 



POEMS. 95 



Sing ye still, O balmy breezes, 
Whatsoe'er your song shall be. 

Come to cheer with fragrant odors, 
Come to clothe the tiowery lea. 

Come to charm when dull and weary, 
Come to cool the fevered brow, 

Come to tell of brighter visions 
Than the heart is grasping now. 



^ ilTotl)cv'0 Cotjc. 

A mother's love. 
What hidden treasures lie in that deep source 
Of tenderness ; what tie so sacred, or 
What fount so pure. If aught there is on earth 
Connected with a holy impulse, 'tis 
The fondness of a mother's love. See with 
What care and anxious hope she watches o'er 
The infant slumberer ; what pleasing thoughts 
And wishes rise when first a smile plays on 
The ruddy features of her child, when first * 

The little prattler lisps a parent's name. 
And with its pretty playfulness repays 
A mother for her care. When childhood's fair 
And rosy morn steals o'er the darker hours 
Of infancy, with pleasure does she view 
Its innocent and guileless mirth, and sees 
With pride the promises of genius bright 
Or manhood fair. Yes, childhood's morn, that bright 
And happiest period in all time, 



96 POEMS. 

When shades of care or thoughts of guile ne'er mar 

The beauty of its brightness. Yes, in this 

Rapturous hour hope hghtly sits upon the 

Mother's brow, and honest pride lends to her 

Features dignity and grace. If time or 

Absence change the features — if disease, with 

Sunken eye or pallid cheek, has laid her 

Grasp upon the once fair blooming face of 

Childhood ; or if sorrow write a furrow 

On the brow once beaming with delight and 

Gladness, then, O then a mother ne'er her' 

Tenderness withholds, she ne'er forsakes ; nor 

Will her watchful eye in needful slumber 

Close when lies her offspring stretched upon a 

Couch of pain ; unwearied will she sit and 

Soothe with tenderest care till life's departed. 

Not to a father thus the child may turn 

With surest hopes of fond attachment. No, 

Man's high ambition, his the nobler and 

More lofty current of the soul, that like 

A stream, swift-rushing to the sea, flows on, 

Nor rests to heed the gentle rivulet. 

His country's weal, the path to fame, 

Or glory's gilded crown the hero's meed, 

Or badge of science ; these man's warmest zeal 

Excite, and these more worthy of inan's hope 

And admiration, leave the gentle task 

To guide and rear her loved ones to the fond 

And tender mother, thus 'tis willed, for earth 

Bears not an emblem of devotedness 

Like hers, a well-deep, deep within the heart. 



POEMS. 97 



®o ilTavgavct |). 

Loved friend, companion of my youth, 
Ere morn's first blushes left the sky, 

In friendship's chain of love and truth 
No broken link in memory. 

Fond friend, accept a smile, a tear ; 

What other oifering may I bring ? 
I breathe for thee no wish not pure 

As breath of morn or breeze of spring. 

Though years have rolled since first we met, 
And many a meteor left the sky ; 

Though golden suns have risen to set, 
And clouds obscured our destiny. 

We've met when friends and fortune smiled, 
And all was bright and fresh and fair; 

Enchantment's song the hours beguiled, 
The future knew no thought of care. 

We met in childhood's rosy morn, 

Ere fate had linked in friendship's tie ; 

And oft we met in life's high noon, 

And marked how morn's first blushes fly. 

We've met when gayly danced' the houi-s. 

And life was filled with music sweet ; 
The sunny path seemed strewn with flowers, 

That waved their heads to kiss our feet. 
5 



98 



Though many a change, since first we met, 
Hath strewn fife's path with thorns or flowers, 

No change has taught us to forget ! 
No change can blot fife's happy hours ! 



^0 llkr. 

Thou death-deafing Tyrant — who rulest the hour. 
How dreadful thy reign — how despotic thy power; 
Earth's noblest and best on thine altar is laid, 
And treasures most dear are the offerings paid ! 

No wealth of affection can stay thy rude hand, 
Thou drinkest the tear as the hot desert sand, 
And sunder' St forever the-tenderest ties, 
Nor heedest the grave where the broken heart lies. 

Though kingly thy crown, and with jewels bestud, 
Thy robe is deep-stained with the bravest heart's blood; 
Though thy " sabre like lightning is gleaming afar " — 
The pall-covered hearse is thy chariot — O War ! 



^ggie to Baxal). 

I HAVE an only sister, and they call her little Sate, 
She's all my fondest hope could wish, a gentle, loving mate ; 
And when she sings her sweetest songs, I fancy I can hear 
An angel's voice join in the strain, so soft, so sweet, and 
clear. 



POEMS. . 99 

Her face to me is beautiful, so innocent, so true, 
And when I meet her welcome gaze, her eye of soul- 
lit blue 
Seems speaking all a sister's love, a sister's hopes and fears, 
For one less thoughtful than herself, and younger too in 
years. 

May Heaven reward this sister mine with blessings large 

and free. 
Protect her through the voyage of hfe, till o'er its stormy 

sea. 
And when at last her loving heart shall beat for me no 

more. 
Oh, may she join the happy throng on life's eternal shore. 



(Jl)c (J^iuin Sisters. 

Two little buds of beauty rare 
Were seen at morn, with promise fair 

To bloom till evening's dawn ; 
Not gentle zephyr's breath more sweet. 
When tripping light with fairy feet 

The dew-gemmed verdant lawn. 

And each in youthful vigor grew, 
And bright and beautiful and true, 

Their star on earth had shone ; 
The gentle form, the timid air, 
The loving heart, each true as fair ; 

Such sisters they had grown. 



POEMS. 

But promise fair and vision bright, 
Now clothed in sable hues of night, 

Are veiled from mortal eyes, 
Those buds that in such beauty grew. 
And won all hearts, the fond and true, 

In strong and lasting ties. 

Ah ! sympathy — how cold thou art ! 
Thou canst not heal the wounded heart ; 

No tear which thou mayst shed 
Can wash the heart's deep grief away. 
Or lengthen out life's transient day. 

When all of hope has fled. 

One thought alone the heart can cheer, 
In bitter grief, and darkness drear ; 

A promise sure is given — 
That " those who early seek shall find ; " 
That "whatsoe'er on earth ye bind. 

Shall also be in heaven." 



Bcflcctiona at a (Bvavc. 



"There is a calm for those who weep, 

A rest for weary pilgrims found. 
They softly lie and sweetly sleep 
Low in the ground." 

Montgomery. 



I SILENTLY stood by the newly made grave 
Of one who, in life, I had valued full dear ; 

Ivife's voyage was ended — the last breaking wave. 
With its murmur, forever had died on her ear ! 



POEMS. I 

By memory aided, I traced back the years 

To her fair youthful morning, when happy and gay, 

Unclouded with cares, and undimmed with the tears 
So oft interspersed on mortality's way. 

But however brightly life's sun may arise, 

Like a mist that is seen round the mountain to hang, 
The clouds of affliction may cover the skies, 

And adversity's rain-drops yield many a pang ! 

True faith was the fountain, the well-spring of hope. 
Which shed on her pathway its heavenly ray ; 

That hope was the sunbeam that girded her up, 
And brightened her vision as life ebbed away ! 

Now sweetly she slumbers beneath the green earth. 
The wife and the mother, unchanging and true ; 

Stilled forever the heart which gave sympathy birth, 
And hushed the loved voice with its melody too. 

But oh, the rich boon that is hers may I crave, 
When life with its trials and sorrows is o'er, 

When this grief-stricken heart shall be laid in the grave, 
And the cold, bitter world rend in anguish no more. 

Ah ! then may some friend shed a tear o'er my dust ; 

'Tis a fond wish to cherish, if cherish I may, 
But the boon — that I ask, is an undying trust. 

That triumphs through faith over death and decay. 



POEMS. 



So iHra. ^. 

"The rose may bloom to fade, 
The violet weep and die. 
But flowers of heavenly birth 
Shall bloom again on high." 

The spring's first smile is scarcely shed, 
And summer's graceful blossoms spread, 
Ere autumn's winds come sweeping by, 
And plant and blossom droop and die. 
The scented rose's boasted hue, 
The modest violet's deeper blue, 
The snowy lily's gentle head, 
Must sink in silence with the dead. 
The morning sun may brightly rise, 
And, robed in splendor, mount the skies. 
But ere 'tis noon his beams are fled, 
And darkest clouds the skies o'erspread. 
Thus with the bright and rosy child. 
Ere life's young dawn has scarcely smiled, 
The bud, just opening into light, 
Fades with' ring into death's dark night ; 
No sin, no sorrow clouds its life, 
No anxious cares, or vexing strife, 
Pure as the crystal dewdrop's birth, 
Too lovely far to dwell on earth ; 
Free from tlte thralls of earth will rise. 
By angels wafted to the skies. 
Where spirits shine with brighter ray. 
In realms of bliss through endless day. 



POEMS. 103 



®o Saral). 

Dost thou request one thought of mine, 
Which thou canst keep as mem'ry's token, 

Ah, Sister — could I trace a Hue, 

Fit pledge of friendship ne'er unbroken ; 

Thy wish should be my choicest theme, 
For should I be by friends forgotten, 

Or only as a passing dream 
That vanishes ere we awaken ; 

Yet I would live within thy mind 

The evergreen — the oak must cherish ; 

Forever in thy heart enshrined, 

A cord that twines till all shall perish ! 

Oh, sister, long, long years have flown 
Since first we lisped a prayer together ; 

And hopes we cherished fondly, gone 
Like tracks on snow in wintry weather. 

Yes, many changes we have known— 
A path of mingled joy and sadness. 

Been strew' d alike with flower and thorn, 
Pursued in grief, and then in gladness. 

But oh, there are in memory's store 

Some treasured, bright, and happy hours ! 

That still we love to linger o'er. 

As childhood loves its trees and flowers. 



I04 POEMS. 

Dear sister, there are many ties 

That bind us yet, with cords unbroken, 

And will, till sleeping side by side, 

Our last fond wish and word been spoken. 

And when we lay our burdens down, 
And yield this life back to its Giver, 

May Heaven's own joys our spirits crown, 
Beyond the mists of death's cold river. 



<lo UCD. C. ^. 111. 

Columbia's grateful praise is due 
To honor' d sires who freedom won, 

And yearly will her sons renew 

The glorious theme of Washington. 

Ah, yes, her heroes' names shall dwell 
In freemen's hearts — a treasured scroll ; 

And millions yet the song shall swell 
To sound their fame from pole to pole ! 

Do not all lands in one engage 

To eulogize the hero's name? 
And patriot, statesman, friend, and sage. 

Are treasured on the list of fame. 

And shall no thankful burst of song — 

No tear of gratitude be given — 
To mark the memory of him 

Who points the soul from earth to Heav'n ? 



POEMS. ^°5 

- Ah, what are titles, wealth or fame ?— 

They live awhile t' allure us here, 
The baseless fabric of a name — 
A moment's flash, to disappear ! 

But Heav'n's own joys are ever sure, 

And love divine the glorious song ; 
Immortal strains forever pure. 

To the Redeemer's name belong. 

Accept, O Lord, this prayer of mine — 
That those who teach thy sacred way 

In Heav'n's eternal courts may shine 
More glorious unto perfect day ! 



^I)ou(jl)t0 on (!ll)iliil)oolr. 

How fondly mem'ry lingers o'er 
The visions of its earliest dream. 

When childhood's morn, with fairy pow'r, 
Dawns in its first and fairest beam. 

'Tis sweet to view the cherub smile 
That dances on the cheek of youth ; 

No cloud of grief, or thought of guile. 
Can shade that brow of love and truth. 

The purest, happiest hour of life. 
So gently ghding Hke a stream 

That murmurs on — no care, no strife, 
To mar the bliss of life's young dream. 
5* 



Io6 POEMS. 

Sweet hour — thou'rt like the breath of morn, 
As bright, as pure, with promise true, 

As when she sheds on flower and thorn 
Her fragrant breath of sparkHng dew. 

Like spring's first bloom in beauty spread, 
When breezes waft their perfume sweet ; 

Like morn's first dawn with tinge of red. 
When golden suns the morning greet. 

But, ah ! time's wintry wind will shake 
The wreath of roses from youth's brow ; 

Its sunny morn her smiles forsake, 
And cares the buoyant spirit bow. 

And youth, with all its visions bright, 

And beautiful for future years, 
Will vanish, like morn's golden light, 

In mists and clouds that melt in tears. 

Yet oft will faithful mem'ry trace 

The vanished scenes she loves so well ; 

Again on each familiar face 

Of youth and beauty fondly dwell. 

And oft in manhood's toil-worn years. 

Though joys are flown, and hopes are dead ; 

She, like a rainbow, smiles through tears, 
Though darkest clouds the skies o'erspread. 



POEMS. 107 



|]arol»i} on " Kingbom (Eomm'." 

Written at the time of the last election of President Lincoln. 

Say, darkies, hab you seen McClellan, 

Wid de niufstash on his face, 
Go 'long de road some time dis mornin', 

Like he guine to find a place ? 
He saw de smoke way up de riber 

Where de Union ballot-box lay, 
He took his hat, an' he's left bery sudden, 

An' I specks he's run away. 

Chorus — McClellan, run, ha ! ha ! 
An' Linkum stay, ho^. ho ! 

It must be now dat de kingdom comin', 
An' de year of jubilo ! 

He's five feet one way, two feet toder, 

An' he weigh one hundred pounds ; 
His coat was cut by Vallandigham, • 

For to turn it any side round ! 
He drill so much dey call him gen'ral, 

But he neber fire de gun ; 
De fife and drum was to fool dem Yankees, 

When to Richmond dey was come. 

Chorus— McClellan, run, ha ! ha ! etc. 

De darkies feel so lonesome libin' 

In de slave pen on de lawn ; 
Dey'U move deir boots to Linkum' s quarters, 

For to stay when little Mac's gone. 



Io8 POEMS. 

Dere's wine and cider in de cellar, 

But de darkies dey had none ; 
And now dey belong to Massa Linkum, 

Don't you hear ? — " Who fire dat gun ! " 
Chorus — McClellan, run, ha ! ha ! etc. 

Oh, little Mac's friends dey make us trouble, 

An' dey drive us round a spell, 
But de " Union vote " '11 send 'em up salt riber, 

Wid deir " platform " in a shell ! 
De whip is lost, de hand-cuff broken, 

But de traitors will have deir pay, 
Dey're old enough, big enough, ought to known better 

Den to trown demselves away. 
Chorus — McClellan, run, ha ! ha ! etc. 



lUill Won 90 to tl)e Jair? 

Will you go to the Fair ? 'tis a palace for fun. 
And all sort's of frolic, it can't be outdone ; 
You need not mind scruples of conscience to go, 
For all will be there, — " Upper ten " on tip-toe. 

Now, gentlemen, go, some intelligence use. 
They are ladies who ask you, how can you refuse ? 
And should some old maid make a rap by the means, 
'Tis sure one maid less will be sighing her teens. 

Come, goodly professors, your banners unfurled. 
With " Union " inscribed, not " Come out from the world 1" 
Compromising with Satan ? No, he's in the lurch, 
How ever could Satan get into the Church ? 



POEMS. 109 

Should conscience condemn you, no cause to confess, 
The clergy go there in their orthodox dreSs ; 
(How time-honored Luther and Wesley would stare 
At our latter-day clergy attending a fair !) 

Now shuffle your cards with the skill that must win, 
For " honors are easy " whene'er you begm ; 
A " grab in the bag " is no gambling, you know. 
Oh, not in the least, it is orthodox too ! 

The object's benevolent, all will exclaim, 
From the ten down to cipher, that's only a name ; 
Besides you'll be tolled— hy the Bell in the steeple. 
You have a high standing among the good people. 

'Twill raise you, indeed, from your own humble place. 

And give you importance, a finishing grace ; 

All rusty apparel will soon disappear. 

With " good evening, walk in, and accept^f our cheer." 

" We'll be merry to-night, like brothers we greet 
All the poor, lame, and blind we happen to meet ; 
We'll play the agreeable, wear a bright face ; 
(Business matters to-morrow may alter the case.") 

If you have neither money nor ticket to go, 
Never mind the dilemma, you cannot say no. 
We raffle for prizes, and get all we can. 
For raffling, you know, at a fair is the plan. 

Now all of you hurry and bustle and race, 
The supper and all will be served with a grace ; 
Come, Tom, Dick, and Harry, Kate, Dolly, and Nell ; 
For scenes will commence with the ring of the Bell. 



POEMS. 



CAn Acrostic. 

Borne on faith's eagle pinions, and soaring above 

Earth's treasures and pleasures, unworthy thy love; 

Not all its bright visions can lure thee away ; 

Joys eternal thou seekest, unknown to decay : 

A promise is thine, when life's dark billows roll, 

" My grace is sufficient" to bear up the soul : 

"I am with you alway," the dear Saviour hath said; 

" No evil shall harm while my pathway ye tread." 

Should gloom and thick darkness thy spirit oppress, 

While bearing the message of mercy and peace. 

Rest secure, for the " Watchmen of Zion " shall win ; 

In Christ's armor clad for the conflict with sin, 

(jrace and glory shall crown when the battle is o'er ; 

Hope and faith's perfect vision shall reach the bright shore, 

The soul's bliss^l rest, with its joys evermore. 



©tie to tl)£ ittorn. 

The king of day, Avith golden crown, in splendor quits the 

west. 
And day, with all her toils and cares, has sunk at last to 

rest ; 
The weary laborer homeward bends to seek a sweet 

repose. 
To drown his busy toils in sleep, nor dream of future woes. 



POEMS. I 1 1 

Now falling dews a fragrance send from every plant and 

flower, 
All nature breathes with incense sweet, and from yon ivied 

bower 
The nightingale's soft notes are heard, to distant lover 

dear ; 
And through the trees is heard the sound of streamlet 

winding near. 

What now avail fair Nature's charms, when darkness 

spreads around, 
And philomel's sweet notes are tuned in melancholy 

sound ? 
AVhen silent night, with sable veil, obscures the beauteous 

rose. 
And solemn gloom, with magic power, her fearful curtain 

throws ? 

But see ! advancing in the east, with majesty and light. 
Ascending on her throne of blue, yon peerless queen of 

night ! 
And starry gems of purest ray on heaven's high arch are 

set. 
With gorgeous pomp to deck around her brilliant coronet ! 



What princely form or kingly crown can with the sight 

compare ? 
Not all earth's shining gems of gold or wealth of diamonds 

rare ; 
Earth has no stores to vie with thee, thou fairest, loveliest 

moon — 
Amongst the gifts of nature thou art far the brightest boon. 



112 POEMS. 

But wherefore shines this beauteous orb, when night hath 

closed all eyes, 
And when in needful slumber, too, all weary nature lies ? 
Though countless millions seek the couch, nor see thee 

but in dreams, 
Steadfast and true thine onward course, and bright for all 

thy beams. 



Is it to guide the pious soul, by meditation led, 

Inspired with holy worshippings, with free-born truth to 

tread, 
To trace those numberless bright orbs and read their grand 

design. 
And with the works of nature praise the eternal Power 

divine ? 



Or dost thou shine to guide the sage to roam the bound- 
less sky. 

And with fair science to uplift the astronomic eye ; 

To scan the planets, measure space, and trace the comet's 
path — 

Communion hold with distant worlds, though bound by 
ties to earth ? 



Or is thy gentle influence sent earth's lonely ones to cheer, 
When partial sleep denies her aid and yields to musing 

care ; 
When, wearied with the heartless world, on life's rough 

ocean tossed, 
And sadly wrecked by sorrow's wave, the star of hope is 

lost? 



POEMS. 113 

Yes, then, fair moon, 'tis sweet to gaze from some seques- 
tered scene, 

When all is peace and quietness, no cloud to intervene ; 

On thy pale beauty gently then thy sympathy dost soothe, 

Obscuring half the ills of life and making rough paths 
smooth. 



Whate'er thy mission, lovely moon, we fondly look to thee 
As being true, bright, radiant, and roaming pure and free ; 
Though brilliant stars are round thee set, no beauty equals 

thine. 
Thy rays, for ages yet to come, shall glow undimmed by 

time. 



New Year — though a stranger, we greet thee 
With welcome, our warmest and best ; 

Bright faces are smiling to meet thee ; 
Brave hearts looking forward for rest. 

Bright New Year, we hail thee with gladness ; 

Say, what shall our offering be ? 
Shall we bring forth a record of sadness. 

Or hope's fairest wreath twine for thee ? 

Each year hath its summer and winter ; 

Its flowers, that blossom and die ; 
Its hopes, that soothe sweetly the spirit, 

Then flit as the rays from the sky. 



IT4 POEMS. 

The weary and sad heart is turning 
To thee, Hke a dove to its nest, 

And the soul with its Hght dimly burning, 
Like sunbeams that fade in the west, 

Believes that thy power of healing 
Tired nature again shall restore ; 

And treasures that hope is revealing. 
Are numbered in dreams of the poor. 

Yes, New Year, we joyfully hail thee ; 

The present is all we may claim ; 
Yet veiled from each eye is the future : 

The past exists only in name. 

Whatever the burden of sorrow 
Or sunshine the future may bring ; 

No cankering care for to-morrow 
Shall wither the hopes of thy spring. 

If time in our path scatters flowers, 
Or bears our best treasures away, 

We'll welcome the day that is ours. 
Blessing Heaven for life while we may. 

Thus cheerful, New Year, is our greeting, 
Our welcome the warmest and best ; 

Life's changes our hearts bravely meeting, 
Till years bear us gently to rest. 



POEMS. 115 



iTarevocll to Summer. 

Bright Summer, we bid thee a ling' ring farewell, 
We love in thy warm, sunny bovvers to dwell ; 
We love the green earth, and the shade of the vine, 
Still seen round the arbor and cottage to twine. 

We love, yes, we love thee, and sadly we part, 
With thy verdure and bloom, ever soothing the heart 
In low gentle whisp'rings of wisdom and love, 
Of beauty and bloom in the sunlight above. 

We love the fresh flowers, their perfume so sweet ; 
The green mossy carpet that presses our feet ; 
The fragrant sweet-brier, when bathed in the dew, 
Bright, sparkling, and pure, as when Nature was new. 

The beautiful bu-ds, with their heart-cheering songs. 
That roam through the sky undisturbed by earth's wrongs, 
The murmuring brook all unfettered and free, 
Winding softly along, or with frolic and glee. 

The warm balmy air, and the soft twilight breeze. 
The verdure and shade of the tall forest trees. 
The valley, the meadow, the nook, and the dell. 
The river and landscape, all, all we love well. 

Yet the beauties of Summer we ne'er can unfold. 
Or paint its sky's shadows in crimson and gold ; 
The Summer hath charms ever dear to the heart. 
Bright Summer — sweet Summer — how sadly we part ! 



Il6 POEMS. 



Say, dost thou ask one strain of mine, 
Traced on thine Album's glowing page ? 

'Twere better this request of thine 

Should meet some skilful bard or sage. 

Yet gladly would I court the muse, 
To strike one note of tuneful song ; 

The theme of friendship I would choose, 
A boon, life's dearest gifts among. 

But partial oft, like Fortune's smiles, 

I sue in vain to win her aid ; 
Her rambling moods and airy wiles 

Have my jDoetic skill betra3'ed. 

Then, Agnes, though in simple strain, 
Thou wilt accept my wish sincere, 

For friendship's off'ring will remain 
When beauty's flow' rets disappear. 

For griefs and joys alike await 

Our passage, o'er life's swelling sea ; 

May innocence and truth create 
Thy joys — this is my wish for thee, 



117 



CI)ilbl)oob.— ^0 Saral) 0. 

How sweet are the visions of Childhood's gay morn ; 

Young hope, with mild lustre, beams bright o'er the way ; 
The sunshine of innocence smiles to adorn 

The merry May hours of youth's hapjiy day. 

And sweet is the Spring, when its life-giving breeze 
Awakens the forest and skims o'er the plain, 

With verdure and bloom clothes the hills and the trees, 
Making glad with the song of the wild bird again. 

Thus youth, like the spring-time, is lovely and fair. 

In simplicity's beautiful garment arrayed; 
Joy beams on the features, unsullied by care, 

And thought of the morrow ne'er dims with a shade. 

How sweet are the first tender blossoms of spring, 
As the beams of the morning unfold them to view; 

Just washed with the dew-drops, a sweetness they fling 
On the air, as when nature and beauty were new. 

How like those fresh blossoms the morning of youth. 
When the cheek is just tinged with the hue of the rose ; 

And the breast is adorned with the sunlight of truth, 

Like the dew-drop that sweetens the flower where it 
glows. 

But, Sarah, the beauty of youth must decay. 

Like the fairy-formed vision that flits with a dream ; 

Youth's prospects and hopes, like the flower, die away, 
And its sunny skies glow with a less dazzling beam. 



Il8 POEMS. 

But still may true virtue, enthroned in thy heart, 
Like a star, shed its rays to illumine thy way ; 

So when the bright morn of thy youth must depart 
Its halo shall brighten the close of thy day. 



^0 mxs. ill. OH. €% 

I WANDERED to-day to your old " Island Home" 
By the noble St. Lawrence, of rivers the pride. 

Whose waves wash the pebbles and curl their bright foam 
As in years long ago, when we played by its side. 

The homestead is changed, though a landmark to me ; 

It points to the scenes in my memory so dear. 
The sweet joys of childhood, when happy and free ; 

That home I have cherished for many a year. 

With our sisters how oft we have romped on the green, 
Or sat in the shade of the old orchard trees ; 

No happier group on the Island was seen, 

As we roamed round its borders and caught the fresh 
breeze. 



We gathered the shells from the sands by the shore, 
Or bathed in the stream on a warm sultry day ; 

We sought for wild cherries and grapes, a rich store, 
Or culled the sweet flowers that grew by the way. 



POLMS. IT9 

How well I remember your reverend sire, 

As he opened the leaves of his favorite Book ; 

His great heart would warm as the theme would inspire, 
Or pleading for man with emotion he shook. 

As well I remember that mother, so true, 

With her snowy frilled cap, and an air of command. 

O'er the farm-house presiding, its welfare in view. 
Dispensing its stores with a bountiful hand. 

Thus often the spring-time of life we live o'er : 

The old village church with its ancient square tower, 

The little stone school-house of classical lore. 
Where we sported or studied for many an hour, 

Stand before us again in the beautiful past, 

With all the bright hopes to our young hearts then dear, 
When we knew not our joys were too precious to last, 

Or thought the remembrance would cost us a tear. 

Still true is our friendship, though years have rolled by, 
While some have gone from us away to their rest ; 

We talk of our loved ones, and heave a sad sigh. 
But vainly we grieve, for we know they are blest. 

And thankful for life with its blessings to-day, 

Let us hope in the future, nor mourn for the past ; 

May the bright star of faith ever beam on our way, 
And guide safely over life's billows at last ! 



POEMS. 



2Ll)at Canlr, 

BY J. L. JOYCE. 

The following lines were written a short time hefore the death of the young Poet, al 
the age of twentj'-tvvo years. By permission they are copied in this volume for 
the bi;auty they possess, as well as sincere respect for the gifted Author. 

I'm coming, Land ! thy glowing hills seem nearer, 

All studded o'er with gems of crystal light, 
Each well-known object to my heart is dearer. 

Although they've been forever in my sight. 
A child I saw thee, Land of angel beauty. 

In boyish dreams I chased thy butterflies ; 
Yet when I wandered from the path of duty, 

A cloud would hide thee from my weeping eyes. 

In youth I saw thee, but the distance lengthened — 

Thy border burned away beyond the stars, 
Yet when I sought thee, then my eye was strengthened; 

Thy light eclipsed life's golden morning bars. 
I saw thee, too, when other lights were breaking — 

Love, fame, achievement high, in after years. 
They were the fires of young ambition, waking 

To blaze and burn, grow dim, go out in tears. 

Alone, thou wert the only light undarkened, 

Of all the lights around life's middle stand ; 
To voices wafted from thy shore I hearkened, 

And knew indeed thou wert the " Better Land." 
In dreamy moods I've heard a mellow ringing 

Borne from thy hills across the space of years. 
And often low, sweet cadences of singing 

Have thrilled my soul and melted me to tears. 



POEMS, 

I'm coming — life is fading in the distance, 

Its bands are breaking, soon J will be free. 
Death will not triumph, for there's no resistance, 

He only bears me, loved Land, o'er to thee. 
Land of the soul and S]Dirit's inward longing I 

Land of pure song and every new delight ! 
My every thought is to thy green fields thronging, 

Where flowers bloom and skies are ever bright. 

I see no forms upon thy amber bridges. 
My eye not perfect, and the way yet long ; 

But there are angels on the crystal ridges, 

For I have heard the harp-notes of their song. 

No gloomy clouds o'erhang thy golden mountains, 
No shadows lie around thy '• holy hills ; " 

No cold to hush the music of thy fountains- 
No death to bid the raptured heart be still. 

No sigh of pain, no eating tooth of sorrow. 

No looking back to loved ones, dear and gone, 
No doubts to dim the glory, clad to-morrow, 

But Love and Truth eternal, on and on. 
Bright Land of God ! of prophet, saint and angeU 

My world of pictures painted on the sky, 
I'm nearing fast thy ever-shining border, — 

One step from earth, and I shall never die. 

Potsdam, December 25, 1857. 



122 MIND. 



BY A TEACHER. 

Who can solve the niyster)', or measure the length and 
breadth of the immortal mind ? While centuries have rolled 
on in rapid succession, the human intellect has been con- 
stantly undergoing an enlarging and expanding process, 
cultivating and enlightening its powers, and proving in 
active, vivid delineations, its vast strength and superiority 
over the material world, without ever arriving at tha't point 
where its progression is arrested or its perfection complete. 

"And man ! the beautiful, the strong, the free, 
Heaven's great mystery, whence is he ? 
Yes, whence is he whose intellect hath trod 
The path of wisdom, and hath learned of God? 
E'en where the light of wisdom hath not shone, 
The human intellect hath reared a throne 
Higher than earth ; and placed upon that shrine 
Such image as it deemed were all divine." 

And each period of time has but added its testimony that 
the mind, the spiritual essence in man's nature, is not only 
unlimited in its resources, and incomprehensible in its capa- 
cities, in a finite view, but is subject to continual improve- 
ment in that state of existence which is revealed in man's 
future destiny. 

When we look abroad through the vast fields of litera- 
ture, the various branches of scientific research, the his- 
toric page, from the creation down to the present period, 
the jn'oductions of talent, wit, and genius that throng our 
libraries, and float, as it were, on the wings of every 
breeze, finding their way not only into the palace of 



iMIND. 123 

wealth, but the abode of poverty, and we are led to con- 
template the priceless wealth of mind — the countless 
treasures of thought, deep, high, sublime, produced by 
the activity of the brain — we exclaim with astonishment 
and admiration, What a mystery is man ! How complex 
and intricate the study of the human intellect ! If we 
are amazed at the production of the pen, the great em- 
bodiment of thought comprehended in the science and 
literature of our day, we have still greater reason for won- 
der at the study, the penetration of mind brought to bear 
in the construction of the vast machinery in successful 
operation throughout the country, at once useful, neces- 
sary and efficient, besides actually appropriating not only 
the earth with all its properties, its wealth of mineralogy 
and geology, but the wind, the water and the tide, the 
electric fluid drawn from its aerial home, all are made obe- 
dient to the will of man, and that, too, without opposition, 
without barrier ; the grand result of man's ingenuity and 
invention, by which the labor and drudgery of the physi- 
cal system are moderated or prevented. 

Again : do we not love to dwell with admiration and 
respect- upon the character of the (so-styled) self-made 
man, — the lofty ideality of his native genius, the glowing 
eloquence that hangs upon his lips, the God-like motives 
that stimulate his soul, the high and holy aspirations tend- 
ing upward toward their eternal source, those exalted 
powers of intellect, that gain new strength with every 
noble effort, the beautiful language of thought towering 
in sublimity to the very clouds, the manly and firm resolve, 
the self-sacrificing spirit of endurance, all concentrated and 
bending toward the one great object of his existence, 
whether that object originate in the cause of Christianity, 
philanthropy or patriotism ; and while we admire we are 
carried along with a mighty influence, l^rne up as it were 



t24 MIND. 

on the resistless wings of the sublimity and grandeur of 
his lofty flight, almost persuaded that he is a creature of 
inspiration, too pure and bright to bear affinity with the 
coarser ties of earth, or for a moment be compared 
with one whose sordid and selfish views have impoverished 
and degenerated the God-given powers of his intellectual 
nature ! But the question will naturally arise here, Why 
the necessity of this comparison ? .Why this difference in 
the faculties and pursuits of man ? In most cases where 
eminence and distinction have been attained, it is attri- 
butable, to industry, perseverance, indomitable energy, self- 
denial ; besides keeping in view some object worthy of 
man's hopes and aspirations, illustrated by the noble river, 
which, when there are no undermining causes, no rocks 
to combat, no angry storms to convulse it, flows quietly 
and sluggishly along ; but when causes conspire to trouble 
its waters, and toss in commotion its foam-crested billows, 
then, not less rapidly, but with greater force and power, 
overcoming every obstacle which impedes its progress, it 
speeds on to its destination. Thus with the brave, the 
good and noble of the earth ; that lofly intellect which is 
destined to excel, and has taken its place as a brilliant 
star in the moral firmament, and whose achievements have 
been written on the fairest page of fame's proud history, 
has, perhaps, had its dawn among the obscure and hum- 
ble ; perhaps with few or no advantages, its possessor has 
struggled patiently with the frying vicissitudes of life, cour- 
ageously braving the fury of every merciless storm and 
opposing element, until he has arrived where the sunshine 
of prosperity has cheered and lighted up his upward and 
onward path. From the early dawn of infancy the intel- 
lect is subject to the law of progression, and continues to 
expand ; not only as long as it remains in the earthen casket, 
but after the earthly tie is severed, it is undiminished and 



AN INCIDENT IN EVERY-DAY LIFE. 1 25 

nndimmed, a part of infinity itself, which can never be 
annihilated ! Human thought, as deep as the earth and 
high as heaven, is j^ermitted to range the ocean's cave, 
the' untrodden mine, and swifter than the lightning's gleam 
to measure d'istance o'er the globe, and count the wealth, 
the stores of earth ; to skim the mountain's cloudy brow, 
and wander in the leafy dell, by singing brook, or make 
the stars- its home ; to measure space, unfold the mighty 
mysteries of the planetary world, nor slumbers here, but 
ever on and on, existing co-extensive with the rays of light 
and truth, no chain to fetter and no law to bind, no dark- 
ness te-hide, no power control its onward march. But we 
may here speak of the discipline of the mind which gene- 
rally devolves upon the school-teacher, Avho is respon- 
sible, in a great measure, for the culture of that germ 
which is like a tree that spreads its flourishing branches 
— a shade to the weary traveller — a beautiful emblem of 
nourishment and care, and an ornament to the surround- 
ing landscape ; yea, more than this, the teacher has the 
training- of that intellect which is destined yet to stand 
as a strong pillar in this mighty republic, and to whose 
wisdom the nation may bow in respect and admiration, — a 
great result derived from the advantages and blessings of 
the glorious system of free schools and a free press. 



^u Inciiicnt in (Suern-Pan Cxfe. 

" Mother, let me assist you in putting the trimming on 
those dresses, you look so tired, and I am sure I can sew 
a little," said Mary Milford, in a soft sweet voice, which 
was interrupted by quick and difficult breathing that plainly 



126 AN INCIDENT IN EVERV-DAY LIFE. 

indicated the ravages of an incurable disease. " Mary," 
said Mrs. Milford, " I think I can get the work finished 
before six o'clock, and Mrs. Brimley said if it was sent 
home by six there would be sufficient time to get ready 
for the wedding, as the guests were invited precisely at 
seven, and she wished her daughters to appear in this rose- 
colored silk, which she thought very becoming for the occa- 
sion, and certainly it is," at the same time glancing at the 
slender frame and flushed cheek of her darling child ; 
" besides, the thought that I shall be able to contribute 
a little to your comfort, strengthens me to perform the 
task." — " True, dear mother," said Mary, " but disappoint- 
ments are so frequent, I think it not best to make any 
calculations in advance of present means ; besides, I feel 
somehow that no confidence can be placed in any one who 
is under the influence or in any way connected v.'ith the 
Newcourts." But while Mrs. Milford and Mary are con- 
versing, w^e will give a few incidents in their history. Mr. 
Milford was an honest industrious man, possessing a shrewd- 
ness in business and strictly temperate habits, by which 
he acquired wealth easily, but, accompanied by a warm 
and generous heart, he distributed liberally whenever his 
benevolence or sympathy jjrompted ; which, j^erhaps, 
accounted in some measure for the unfortunate situation 
of his family after his death. INIary, his only child, had 
been the object of his tender solicitude and fond afi"ec- 
tion, and no pains had been^spared in her education or 
accomplishments. A short time bi^fore Mr. Milford's 
death, Charles Welton became the acknowledged suitor of 
Mary, but that event brought about a change of circum- 
stances which materially affected her future prospects. 
Though by no means destitute of the ordinary comforts of 
life, yet it became necessary that Mrs. Milford and her 
daughter should make some provision which might insure 



AN INCIDENT IN EVERY-DAY LIFE. ^2'} 

theii" future support ; this they foresaw, and their fortitude 
seemed equal to the task. It was generally acknowledged 
that Mary excelled in music, and she cheerfully consented 
to engage as teacher, and accepted the proposal of Mr. 
Newcourt to instruct his daughters, on condition of receiving 
her wages at the expiration of a year. During her stay at 
Mr. Newcourt' s, Charles still continued his visits, but in his 
estimation Mary had fallen from her lofty position. Being 
dependent upon her own efforts for the means of her sub- 
sistence, she must be a stranger to the pleasures of refinement 
and taste, and on account of the change in her situation 
must necessarily become melancholy and care-worn, being 
himself of that peculiar temperament which can only e.xist 
under the rays of the genial sun of prosperity. Well would 
it have been for Mary could she have thrown aside th (fveil 
and read the real sentiments of his heart, but the true 
woman is ever prone to attribute to the object of her affec- 
tions those virtues which she herself possesses. When Mr. 
Welton first became a visitor at Mr. Newcourt's, Mary was 
permitted to assemble with the young ladies in the parlor, 
but as his visits became more frequent, she was instructed 
that her place was in the governess> room, whither she 
might retire when the duties of the day were over ; and if 
she could enjoy the society of Miss Ward, a staid maiden 
lady some twenty years her senior, it was all the same to the 
gay and fashionable Miss Newcourts, but in whose society 
Mary took sincere delight, and learned much, for in the 
uninterrupted quiet of that chamber she received those 
counsels of experience and wisdom, accompanied by that 
generous sympathy and warm interest which ever flow from 
a true and benevolent heart, that led her to seek for per- 
manent happiness far beyond the hopes and prospects of 
earthly ambition. The year had now nearly expired and 
Mary's wages became due. She had already learned a 



128 AN INCIDENT IN EVERY-DAY LIFE. 

bitter lesson, which still weighed heavily at her heart, that 
of keen, remorseless disappointment, besides witnessing the 
selfish vanity andheartlessindignity of the Miss Newcomts, 
but not prepared for the calm, cool insolence that followed 
her intimation that the time had arrived in which she was 
to receive the amount her due, and which was now her 
sole dependence. But after talking some time about "easy 
work," " great privileges," " fine time of it," and cavilling 
about "hard times and no money," Mr. Newcourt promised, 
with much apparent sincerity, that if Mary would remain 
three months longer, the whole sum should be forthcoming 
at that time. She consulted her mother, who, though Mary's 
health was slightly impaired, advised her to remain, at the 
sam^ time denying herself the gratification of Mary's soci- 
ety that slie might accumulate a little fund by means of 
which they would not be subjected to the embarrassment 
of depending upon others. But Mary's health began to 
fail, and at the end of three months she was obliged to 
return home. Still Mr. Newcourt delayed paying for his 
daughters' tuition, and when Mrs. Milford called for it, he 
denied the debt, and told her there was no evidence that 
any such bargain existed between Mary and himself, but 
knowing she was poor, he let her remain at his house out- 
of chanty. Mrs. Milford could make no reply, for she 
scarcely realized whether it was a bewildering dream or 
a fearful reality. When she recovered her consciousness 
Mr. N. had disappeared, and she returned home with a 
sad and heavy heart. She related the circumstances to 
a friend, who expostulated with Mr. Newcourt, but to no 
purpose ; in vain did he appeal to his sense of justice or 
his sympathy, in vain did he picture the distressed situation 
of the widow and the sufl'ering daughter, and not having 
the means to secure the decision of a court of justice, ]\Irs. 
Milford silently submitted to the wrong and cruelty, veri- 



AN INCIDENT IN EVERY-DAY LIFE. 1 29 

f3dng the proverb, " Wealth maketh many friends, but the 
poor is forgotten of his neighbor." Mrs. Milford, therefore, 
with renewed energy and industry, phed her needle early and 
late, that she might support herself and procure for her 
daughter some of those little delicacies which render the 
long, tedious hours of sickness less wearisome and painful. 
Mary had now been at home about three months, and as she 
was fast approaching her last change, her mother's anxiety 
and affection seemed still more intense, but no murmur 
escaped the lips of Mary— she was sinking down gently into 
the water of death's cold river, her subdued spirit had caught 
the sweet influence of that atmosphere which knows neither 
cold nor sorrow, and she was soon to enter that blest abode 
where light and peace and joy forever reign. But to hasten 
our narrative : the day on which it commences had nearly 
worn away, and Mrs. Milford had finished the work on 
which she was engaged, and hurried over to Mrs. Brimley's 
with hope and an.xiety beaming in her countenance. ^ At 
the door she met a servant who took the work to her mis- 
tress, with the message that " Mrs. Milford wished to speak 
with her ;" after waiting some time in the hall the servant 
returned saying that Mrs. Brimley was preparing to attend 
the wedding, and if Mrs. Milford would call in next day she 
would settle with her. Mrs. Milford returned from the 
abode of wealth, where she had waited too long, sick at 
heart, and confused with torturing thoughts, .she fairly reeled 
as she left the door to return to her humble cottage. The 
day was fast verging into twilight as she bent her steps home- 
ward and hastened into the little sick-room, where upon a 
bed of death lay the object of all her earthly liopes. 
When she approached the bed, she discovered a change 
in the color of the bedding, which was snowy white, 
and the truth flashed upon her mind, — a bloodvessel 
had broken in her absence, and very soon all would be 



130 AN INCIDENT IN EVERY-DAY LIFE. 

over vith her darling child ; she quickly lighted a lamp, 
then kneeling beside the bed and kissing her fair, 
smooth brow, she heard her whisper, " Farewell, dear 
mother, weep not for me," and calmly closed her 
eyes to slumber sweetly on till the dawning of that great 
day when the " secrets of all hearts shall be made known." 
At half-past seven o'clock on that evening, the young, the 
fair, the good and gentle Mary Milford passed away. On 
the same evening, and at the same time, the noble and 
manly looking Charles Welton and the gay, fascinating and 
costly attired Lucy Newcourt, were united in the solemn ties 
of matrimony. But in the costly display of the splendid 
apartments, the music and mirth, the gayety and fashion 
which greeted the eye and ear on that evening, could it be 
supposed that one sad lingering thought of Mary came like 
an unbidden guest into the chamber of his heart for her 
whose vows were pledged in the light of eternal truth, and 
wh^ would have sacrificed life itself to prove her fidelity and 
devotion ? Or did the cadence of one sweet plaintive note 
call up in Lucy's mind the image of the gentle music-teacher, 
or one leaden-winged thought find its way into that selfish 
bosom, calling back to memory the groundless insinuations 
cast upon her innocence, or the haughty insolence and con- 
tempt heaped upon her while under their roof, thus remorse- 
lessly strewing her path with thorns ? Or did one repent- 
ant sigh escape her lips, when, later in the evening, came the 
intelligence that ''' Mary Milford was dead?" Or did 
remorse, like a grim spectre, knock at the door of New- 
court's heart as his e}-e rested on the magnificent furni- 
ture around him, and whisper, " The money, the legal 
right which thou hast withheld, and which might have 
smoothed her passage to the tomb," will never more be 
sought for by Mary, but, like a canker-worm, will gnaw at 
thine inmost soul ? These are questions which the heart 



MUSIC. 



alone can answer ; and their settlement will be dela}'ed until 
the last great day of accounts, when their final adjustment 
will be signed and sealed by an impartial Judge. 



flTusic. 

AN ESSAY. 

• 

Is there not an undefinable harmony existing in the 
fytr «>-j r/ jffiorld-? Who can describe the mysterious, irresistible power 
which music exerts over the human heart ? The most 
acute ear and vivid imagination, the most comprehensive 
language combined, would fail to give a correct represen- 
tation of the different effects, produced by the " harmony 
of sweet sounds " in all their multiplicity of variations from 
" grave to gay," from plaintive and sad to mirthful and joy- 
ous ; nor is it less true that the ear would not grow weary 
were the tones of melody to change in conformity to the 
sympathies and feelings of human nature. Let the care- 
worn peasant, whose toils and anxieties have traced their 
furrows and cast their shadows over his brow, but hear 
again his favorite air, the strains perhaps of some bard of 
his native land, how soon will his features glow with a new 
emotion, his eye sparkle with a new lustre, while his whole 
being seems conveyed back, as it were, amid the scenes of 
other days, and he will again renew the ties of early asso- 
ciations, again will appear before him in golden array the 
bright virions of his early dreams, and emotions which, 
perhaps, for nearly half a century had slumbered in the 
silent recesses of his bosom, are awakened into life ! He 
stands upon another soil, he breathes a purer, freer air, and 
all that is dear in his memory rushes vividly before him ! 



132 MUSIC. 

Again, with what a gentle, soothing influence do the tones 
of sweet, low music fall upon the ear of one who^e heart 
has been crushed ^^■ith the weight of many sorrows, the 
broken vase of withered flowers, and the light of whose 
once brilliant star of hope has gone out in darkness — then 

As silently falls the fresh dew on the flower 
Tliat calmly and tenderly sleeps on its lireast, 

Music steals o'er the heart with an unseen power 
And its passionate throbbings are hushed to rest. 

Yes — often amid the gay and busy scenes, the pleasures 
and fascinations of life, does the stricken one, from the 
depths of solitude which reign within, echo back the strain, 
" 'Tis music alone that can open the springs of this dark, 
frozen bosom." The melting, soul-subduing influence of 
music, like the siren's spell, throws around a flowery veil 
of beautiful dyes, shutting out from the mind's eye all that 
is sad and dreary, and for the moment the over-burdened 
heart is beguiled of its sorrows, and the wounded spirit is 
soothed into a sweet repose ! Nor is the effect of music 
less apparent upon those for whom life's pathway glows 
with the sunshine of happiness, the eye beams more brightly, 
the laugh is more joyous, the footstep falls lightly, and 
the bounding heart seems to beat in unison with the merry 
peals, as in rapid succession they burst upon the delighted 
ear, or sink away in sweetest cadence, thrilling with enliv- 
ening strains, or touching with their gentle pathos until the 
"harp of a thousand strings" is swept with an unseen 
hand, and all its chords in sweet vibration mingle in the 
overflowing tide of song. 

And again, does not a high and holy influence enwrap 
the soul as strains of sacred music, as the " songs of Zion" 
greet the ear? When accompanied by the deep-toned 
organ's lofty peal — the tuneful voice repeats the sacred 



MUSIC. 133 

anthem which ascends in grateful praise to heaven's King, 
a silent awe and solemn i-everence pervades the listening 
throng, while a salutary and religious influence is exerted 
over the mind even of the sceptic ! But to the devoted 
worshipper of the Most High the heart is tuned afresh, 
the affections are elevated, and the whole soul is filled with 
heavenly aspirations, for ever and anon a faint allusion of 
the songs of Paradise liitso'er him ; and through the bright 
vista of eternal years, he is permitted to join a seraph's 
song, while the music of Heaven's full choir falls sweetly 
on his enraptured ear ! Does not the soldier, with an 
eagerness and enthusiasm almost amovmting to adoration, 
hail the notes of the national air of his native land? A 
new inspiration seems to possess his bosom ; his patriotism 
is kindled into a flame, as cheer after cheer denotes his 
devotion, and he feels that he is a better soldier, while he 
again renews his allegiance, and buckles on his armor to 
defend the honor of his "Country's Flag." 

Music ! inexhaustible theme — the soul, the voice of 
praise ! How often in imagination do the thoughts wander 
back through the mists of impenetrable years to the time 
when " the morning stars sang toget]ier," and the universe 
was vocal with the praise of its Creator, or listen in silent 
admiration to the " sweet singer of Israel," Avhile pouring 
forth his devotions in one perpetual song of praise. And, 
later still, can we not in imagination hear the echo awak- 
ened by the Pilgrim Band, in the beautiful and expressive 
words of Mrs. Hemans, as 

" They shook the depths of the desert gloom 

With their hymns of lofty cheer ! 
Amid the storm they sang, 

And the stars heard — and the sea, 
And the sounding aisles of the dim woods rang 

To the anthem of the free." 



134 MUSIC. 

And can we not picture to ourselves the wild son of the 
forest, as the notes of that first song of religious freedom, 
mingled with the hoarse murmur of the rocking pines, borne 
on the rude gale through the forest gloom, broke upon his 
astonished ear ! awing him into a wistful silence and for 
the time controlling his untamed and savage nature. To 
the lover of music (and who loves it not), the sweet sym- 
phonies of nature are ever blending in sublimest harmony ; 
from the low gurgling of the laughing rivulet to the cata- 
ract's tremendous roar ; from the softest whisper of the 
evening zephyr, to the angry moaning of the threatening 
gale, and from the low, sweet humming of the bee to the 
merry carol of the joyousbird, one song of melody goes forth. 

And lastly, who can doubt that music is the theme of 
heaven ? But who shall attempt to describe the melody 
of angel voices ? Is not language tame and irrelevant, 
while the loftiest flight of imagination fails to reach a limit 
and is lost in its own vague ideal ? But some feeble con- 
ception of the sweetness, the thrilling pathos, the soul-sub- 
duing and sublime harmony of the heavenly choristers may 
be indulged, from the expressions of those who have reach- 
ed the brink of death's cold river, as across the flood were 
borne the soft, sweet notes of fairy-like music, enchanting 
the ear and charming the soul, while, with an earnestness 
not to be mistaken, they exclaim — 

Yes, I have heard the angels singing, 

And they beckon ; can I stay ? 
Round my heart fond ties are clinging, 

Yet I long to be away. 

And in the language of the young and gifted J. L. Joice, 
in his visions of the " Better Land," written a short time 
before his departure, where the heavenly aspirations of his 
soul are thus poured forth : — 



SCRAPS FROM A NOTE-BOOK. X35 

" In dreamy moods I've heard a mellow ringing. 
Borne from thy hills across the space of years ; 

And often low, sweet cadences of singing 

Have thrilled my soul, and melted me to tears 

" I see no forms upon thy amber bridges, — 
My eye not perfect and the way yet long ; 

But there are angels on the crystal ridges. 

For I have heard the harp-notes of their song." 

What a rich depth of meaning have those beautiful 
words- -they are indeed the soul, the essence of true poetry ! 
From such aspirations as these may we not entertain some 
faint idea of the reaHty ; besides, how cheering and elevat- 
ing the thought, that when life with its burdens of sorrow 
and care— its long tedious pages of prose interspersed with 
so little of life's poetry — all shall have passed away, and 
the emancipated spirit is permitted to enter the portals of 
the celestial city — that it shall be greeted by the full-robed 
choir whose golden harps are attuned to swell the ceaseless 
anthem of redeeming love in the high and holy abode of 
hght and blessedness. 



jScvap0 from a ^'ote-Sook. 

In August of the summer of i8 — , while occupying the 
position of a country school-teacher, and enjoying the non- 
descript privilege of " boarding 'round," it became neces- 
sary to make my appearance at the house of Mr. P., which 
was situated on the summit of a narrow ridge of land, 
which, from a sort of similarity, was very properly termed 
" The Cat's Back," rising perhaps twenty or thirty feet above 
the surface of the St. Lawrence, whose linij^id waters might 



136 SCRAPS FROM A NOTE-BOOK. 

might be seen at a short distance trowing' peacefully along 
in their unobstructed journey. The day of which 1 am about 
to speak was unusually warm, but no cloud obscured the hori- 
;on, and nothing but a light haze or mist, on its very verge, 
could be construed into the token of an approaching storm ; 
the atmosphere was sultry, and the air so calm and still, not 
a leaf was seen even to tremble upon the trees which were 
scattered here and there around the little log school-house ; 
the landscape was s[)read out in nature's richest loveliness ; 
the river itself, with scarce a ripple to play upon its bosom, 
seemed one vast sheet of solid crystal, and the sun in cloud- 
less splendor reigned the monarch of the scene. After the 
duties of the day were over I could not resist the temptation 
to linger at the school-house and enjoy an hour of silence 
and meditation. At length the idea of a new boarding-place 
prompted me to bend my steps thitherward ; I walked 
nearly a mile, passing a thick copse of brushwood, with 
here and there a tall pine looking majestically down upon 
the fragrant shrubbery beneath, and soon reached the dwell- 
ing, which was a rude hut, constructed of logs, but elevated 
to the highest peak of "The Cat's Back." It contained 
but one room and a garret, which was appropriated to my 
use for the ensuing week. As I approached the house, a 
thought flashed across my brain, that it would be a fearful 
refuge in an August thunder-storm ; but the hospitality and 
kindness with which I was received soon dissipated from my 
mind any apprehensions of future danger. Wishing to retire 
early, I was escorted to the garret, and cHmbing a sort of 
ladder, soon found myself in a sleeping apartment which 
more resembled an observatory ; for through the openings 
in the gable and the roof the moon and stars could be clearly 
seen, while on the verge of the western horizon a])peared a 
ridge of clouds, whose snowy tops, in the silver moonbeams, 
looked more hke pledges of tranquillity than harbingers of 



SCRAPS FROM A NOTE-BOOK. I37 

fear. After musing a short time upon the novelty of my 
situation, I fell into a profound slumber, when, about mid- 
night, a heavy crash of thunder awoke me, the wind roared 
through the trees, and the lightning was so incessant that 
the rafters of the garret could he easily counted ; the 
thunder was almost deafening, as peal after peal and crash 
after crash reverberated from hill to valley, until the groan- 
ing of the eartli beneath seemed to lespond like an answer- 
ing echo, and the rain, instead of " pattering gently on the 
roof," seemed pouring down as though the clouds were 
about to discharge their last drop ; and one might easily 
have been impressed with the idea that the spirit of the 
storm had chosen this elevated locality for its midnight 
reve-lry. 

I was indeed tenitied beyond description, and did not 
wish to remain in so dreadful a place. I was afraid to try a 
descent on the ladder by which I ascended ; besides, what 
would the family think ? Would they not take me for an 
apparition or storm-spirit ? There was no alternative, and I 
summoned all my fortitude and resolutely made up my mind 
to wait patiently the result of the agitated elements, or the 
dawn of morning. But morning dawned at last, as beauti- 
ful as when it first smiled on Eden, and only a stray cloud 
could here and there be seen sailing gracefully along in the 
clear blue of the heavens ; the air seemed loaded with fra- 
grant incense, nature's silent offering to its Divine Author, 
and earth with its foliage and shrubbery seemed still more 
beautiful with the fresh rain-drops still sparkling upon them ; 
indeed everything in nature was refreshed and gladdened 
by the grateful showers ; a few tall pines could be seen in 
the distance, which had braved the storms of nearly a cen- 
tury, but were now splintered, one of which was actually 
burning, having caught the electric flash : aside from this, no 
injury could be discovered. My heart was moved with grati- 



138 KEEP THE HEART RIGHT. 

tude to " Him who ruleth the storm " for the preservation 
of my Ufe during the night ; and though years have rolled by 
since the occurrence, yet the fears and reflections which it 
occasioned will never be forgotten. No trace of the dwell- 
ing, not even a log, remains ; the wood-land has since be-jn 
converted into tields of golden grain, and the httle log 
school-house has long since been replaced by a modern 
structure ; but the scenes connected with it will ever be a 
cherished oasis in the landscape of my memory. 



-:o:- 



Are you a tiller of the soil ? There is nothing that will 
stimulate to energy or enable you in unshaken faith to com- 
mit the seed to earth with the expectation that it shall spring 
forth and be gathered again with an increase for the laborer, 
like keeping the lieart right. The nearer jnan can a]5proach 
the great Creator of the earth, the more confidently can he 
rest upon the promise that " seed-time and harvest sliall not 
fail." 

Are you a. mechanic ? There is nothing that will secure 
employment like keeping the heart right. Though you are 
not a master workman, it will be said of you, " He is a man 
I can trust ; always know where to find him ; he is like a 
wheel which turns all the others, if not so swift in its revo- 
lutions ; " and should sickness and misfortune overtake you, 
then you are not forgotten, but surrounded by those who 
are ready, with willing hands and warm hearts, to extend 
their sympathy and friendship. 

Are you engaged in mercantile pursuits ? There is noth- 



KEEP THE HEART RIGHT. 1 39 

iiig more calculated to insure success than confidence in 
yourself, which is easily obtained by keeping the heart right. 
Jf you rely upon your own integrity, others will rely upon 
you ; but if, through an inadvertent or dishonorable act, 
you lose the contidenc« of your fellow-men, and you are 
marked by distrust, your business affairs begin to falter, and 
you must rely upon a shrewd business tact, or a lucky turn of 
the wheel of fortune, but will learn by experience, ])erhaps 
too late, that your only safety depends upon keeping the 
heart right. 

Are you a writer ? Keeping the heart right is a neces. 
sary qualification. It is much easier for a person to describe 
what he believes or has experienced, than attemjit to delin- 
eate, though it may be in the higliest style of illustration or 
the most glowing colors, those virtues and principles to 
which he is a stranger. Besides, the mask is at times permit- 
ted to fall off; it is therefore not only the best foundation 
upon which to build any structure, but it is a ceaseless 
well-spring which sends forth its clear and limpid currents, 
scattering blessings along its pathway, not only fertilizing and 
refreshing, but gratifying and cheering all who may come 
within the range of its influence. How priceless those gems 
of thought — the true source of all literature — which are 
imbedded in that unseen moral mine, the heart ; and when 
its motives are pure, it is constantly sending forth its spark- 
ling emanations, its bright and precious treasures, which 
are as imperishable as the gold , which is extracted 
from the earthly mine. Their power and influence 
are untold ! They are destined to live on through the 
annals of time — to become household words in future ages, 
long after the casket in which they were enshrined has been 
mingled with its kindred dust. The reverse is as true, that 
an impure fountain cannot send forth pure streams, but is 
constantly accumulating with increased power its deleterious 



140 KEEP THE HEART RIGHT. 

influences, which cannot fail to devastate and blight wher- 
ever they may have scope. 

Are you a preacher of the Gospel ? There is no emi- 
nence to which you can arrive, by literary attainments, sci- 
entific research, or any other intelleotual requirement, which 
may be obtained by wealth or influence, which is so lofty 
and sublime, so free from selfishness or reproach, so blessed 
and purifying to all beneath the shadow of its influence, as 
that eminence which is attained by keeping the heart right. 

From such a source the sacred streams of truth and 
purity are ever welling up in their native simplicity and 
eloquence — their moral grandeur and sublimity. It may be 
said of such a minister : he it is whom " God delights to 
honor," and who in the great harvest will be found " bear- 
ing his sheaves." He is one around whom the best affec- 
tions of the heart will centre ; his words of kindness and 
deeds of love are never forgotten ; and when he. sliall take 
his place in the brilliant and glorious constellation, the rays 
of his sun-bright glory will never cease to shine along the 
darkened pathway of the toil-worn traveller as he journeys 
on toward the mansions of eternal rest. 

Are you a soldier ? You can never be a brave or faith- 
ful one without the heart is right ; but a soldier who is con- 
fident of the purity of his intentions, is prepared to meet his 
fate, whatever it inay be ; but stimulated by the noblest pa- 
triotism, is ready to devote his life to the service of his 
country, and inspired by the most heroic zeal, to defend 
the interests of a just and righteous cause. 

Are you a Christian ? Which indeed you cannot be 
without this elementary principle, to enable you to exer- 
cise and carry out the great rules of morality and religion ; 
but if the heart is right at the starting-point, progression is 
certain, for the Christian's course is ever "upward and on- 
ward," approaching nearer to the true source of all perfec- 



THE CONTRAST. I4I 

tion ; and as he journeys swiftly along, bravely breasting 
the stern realities of human life, his influence is irresistible, 
because his examples are of a character which cannot be 
misunderstood — they are developed in all those acts which 
may be termed " missions of love and errands of mercy." 

From the blessed fountain of a heart that is right flow 
those pure streams which are to enlighten and regenerate 
mankind — elevating the standard of philanthropy, patriotism 
and Christianity, from whose moral height floats the beau- 
tiful banner, bearing the inscription "Peace and good-w'ill 
to man," gratitude and love toward his Divine Benefac- 
tor. 



-:o:- 



®l)c (EontraBt. 

A SKETCH. 

In the flourishing little village of O., in a quiet and neat 
part of the town, stood an elegant mansion, adorned alike 
by nature and art. The graceful foliage of choice shrub- 
bery and the fragrant perfume of rare plants and flowers- 
filled the air, while they greeted the passer-by with their 
sil ent yet eloquent beauty. It was twilight, and the calm 
clear sky looked down upon a scene of loveliness ; the 
window toward the west was raised, and the warm sum- 
mer breezes were- playing with the thick folds of rich cur- 
tain that hung from the ceihng ; near the window, on a 
snowy couch, lay a beautiful child of five or six summers ; 
the light breeze fanned its fevered cheek and waved the 
sunny curls that lay loosely around its fair young brow; 
disease was pictured upon its features, for Death had 



142 THE CONTRAST. 

touched the prostrate form of the sleeper with his icy .wand, 
and the bright current of its young Ufe was becoming cold 
and sluggish, the fragile flower was drooping, and on a few 
short hours hung all the hopes of future years which fond 
parents had cherished ; all that medical skill could devise 
or affection prompt was lavished in vain ; the home of 
luxury had no charm to woo the restless spirit or stay the sad 
moment of its departure, and the pride, the darling of the 
household, was borne away on the white wings of an 
unseen escort. The gilded coffin, the w^eeping mourners, 
the splendid equipage of the funeral cortege, the sculptured 
monumnnt, were all that gave evidence that the child had 
not been only a beautiful vision, but a reality ; but these are 
all unnoticed by the freed spirit, for the treasures of earth 
can add no beauty to an immortal crown. 

Only a short distance from the mansion spoken of, and 
in a low-roofed, miserable cottage, the abode of poverty, 
lay another child upon a dying couch ; the crowded tene- 
ment, surrounded by filthy hovels, scarcely emitted a breath 
of pure and wholesome air ; the absence of furniture in the 
apartment, and the total lack of the comforts and delica- 
cies of the sick-room told the stranger that sorrow and 
privation were the inmates of the dwelling ; but over the 
wasted form of the child bent an affectionate mother. 
Alone, long days and niglits had that faithful mother anx- 
iously ministered to the wants of the object of her dearest 
affections ; dihgently had she tried to win him back to life, 
as thoiMgh a loving heart could shield its treasure or revoke 
the sentence conveyed by death's messenger. The fair 
child had perhaps grown older and wiser by sorrow, for, 
fixing his bright blue eyes upon his mother, he whispered, 
" Don't cry for Willie, Ma ; I'm going to live in a pretty 
house, so bright and warm, where Willie won't be cold again 
or hungry. Dear mother, you will come there too, and 



THE CONTRAST. 1 43 

never weep or work again." "Then the angels gently 
bore him to their blissful home in light." No more will 
that fond mother hear the childish prattle of her darling 
bo}', or see the sunny smile that so often cheered her 
weary hours, or listen for the patter of his little feet after 
going on some simple errand; her all of earthly hope and 
comfort, the light of her dwelling has departed, and left a 
blight upon her prospects and a blank within her heart. 
A carriage to convey the rude coffin to its resting-place, a 
solitary mourner, followed by a few neighbors, a Christian 
minister, whose words of heartfelt sympathy fell like balm 
upon the wounded spirit, were all that told a young im- 
mortal had winged its flight to the heavenly world, to shine 
as a jewel in the Saviour's crown through the long ages of 
eternity. The little travellers have departed ; their tiny 
forms are sleeping alike in the quiet resting-place of the 
dead ; and though they mingled not on earth, ttiey now 
mingle in the heavenly throng, and unite their tuneful 
voices in the anthem of the redeemed ; though they differed 
in their appearance here, they are now clothed in the im- 
perishable habiliments of heaven. Short, indeed, was the 
period of their earthly existence compared with that upon 
which they hav^e entered. What boots it now whether 
those young blossoms first inhaled the breatli of morning in 
the rich palace, or lowly cottage? What boots it now 
whether allied to the wealthy and great, or the poor and 
humble ? It is the immortal spirit, and not its frail casket, 
which rises above all earthly considerations, and commands 
respect or merits contempt through the out-workings of its 
own inherent qualities of good or evil, and is not only des- 
tined to live through the annals of time, but when age after 
age shall have passed away, it will soar on and on through 
the limitless measure of eternit3^ 



144 SPEAK A KIND WORD WHEN YOU CAN. 



Speak a kuii\ iDorti vol]tu. |)ou can. 

Many, indeed, are the thorns which spring up in life's 
pathway, piercing remorselessly the feet of the way-worn 
traveller, and often the heart, in its silent sorrow, is thrown 
back upon itself with an overburdened weight of care, find- 
ing no cherished retreat, no green spot in the great waste 
upon which it can rest. It is true, there are times, it would 
seem, when the fountain of hunan sympathy forgets to 
flow, or its sweet streams have become crystallized by the 
benumbing influence of selfishness ; in such an hour how 
sweetly falls on the wounded spirit a kind word, a pleasant 
smile, an encouraging look, or a friendly recognition ; yes, 
these are the sunny spots of life, the flowers among the 
thorns, the oasis of the desert ; and often have they been 
instrumental in raising the fallen, stimulating the despond- 
ent, awaking into life and activity, inspiring with hope and 
ambition that spirit which had almost learned to look with 
distrust upon a cold and selfish world, and under its bur- 
den of misfortunes was ready to sink in despair. There is 
a chord in the human breast which can only be touched by 
the power of kindness, and then it sends forth its sweet 
tones like the rich music filling the air with melody, which 
can only be produced by a master-hand. Kindness is not 
only a moral lever but a moral law, and is the basis of 
that rule of rules, " Do unto others as ye would that 
others should do unto you." It is like a never-faiflng well- 
spring whose streams, if they are permitted to flow, will 
not only fertilize and gladden on every side, but will 
purify the fountain, rendering its waters clear and healthful; 
not only scattering blessings for others, but returning to 
bless the bosom from whence it sprang. Without this 



THE FOURTH OF JULY. 1 45 

heaven-born principle the earth would be a dreary wilder- 
ness, and life one constant scene of warfare and strife. If, 
then, by a kind word you can prevent one drop of bitter- 
ness in life's cup, or dry one tear of grief, or by its gentle 
influence cause a smile to beam on the features of the 
care-worn and sorrow-stricken, withhold it not. How incom- 
parable its cost with the sublime effects, how j^recious the 
sacred promise, " He that watereth shall be watered also 
himself;" how blessed the consciousness that even one good 
act or desire is approved and registered in heaven. 



^l)e iTourtl) of 3u[t). 

CORRESPONDENCE OF "THE ADVANCE." 

As we are again approaching the anniversary of our 
nation's birthday — ever memorable to freemen — and our 
hearts are beating high with patriotism and liberty, let us 
prepare to celebrate the day in a manner befitting the 
nation's honor, and becoming to the dignity of the loyal 
freemen who are now enjoying the heaven-descended bless- 
ing, and who are willing to sacrifice life that the priceless 
boon of liberty, the sacred privileges which we enjoy, may 
be transmitted to future generations. Never has there 
been a time since the scenes of Lexington and Bunker Hill, 
when the great heart of this Republic beat so quick to the 
soul-stirring song of liberty, or kindled with such a glow 
of fervent and devout patriotism, which, like an electric 
thrill, at the same moment se^ms to vibrate through every 
nerve, and inspire anew every high and holy affection ! 
Mever, indeed, to us have the starry folds of our own proud 
7 



146 THE FOURTH OF JULY. 

flag — the emblem of greatness and the joy of every eye — • 
appeared in such briUiancy and beauty, or so dear to our 
hearts, as at the present. Breathes there a freeman beneath 
the dome of heaven that does not respond m sympathy and 
devotion to the throbbings of the great pulse of the nation, 
or does not feel the life-blood start afresh in his veins when 
the sword of treason or rebellion is pointed even at the 
smallest fibre of its constitutional frame-work ? The bursts 
of enthusiasm called forth by an overflowing love of coun- 
try, which greet the ear on every passing breeze, tell us 
emphatically that the spirit of liberty is still burning upon 
our altars, and its fires cannot be quenched but with the 
total extinction of all things. Here, in this garden of the 
West, it has been cradled and nurtured. "It has grown 
with our growth and strengthened with our strength," until 
it has become a luminary in the moral and political heavens 
— a beacon to point the exile and the oppressed of every 
land to a friendly haven. Shall we not hail the day, dedi- 
cated through all ages to freedom, with joy and gratitude, 
surpassing the manifestations of any former occasion ? 
Shall not the fires of '76 glow again with unwonted brilli- 
ancy, and every voice be tuned to catch the stirring notes 
of the nation's anthem? Yes, let the glorious Stars and 
Stripes which float from every pinnacle, forming almost one 
vast canopy, be greeted with a cheer that will reverberate 
across the waters of old St. Lawrence, and in thunder-tones 
be heard down south of Mason and Dixon's line ! Let every 
freeman awake to celebrate the nation's jubilee, and let your 
zeal stimulate and cheer the " brave hearts and strong 
hands " who are defending the nation's hberty and battling 
for God and their country. The dark and portentous 
cloud which has so long been hovering over the Republic, 
in a measure obscuring the bright sun of liberty, and, like 
an incubus, clogging the wheels of progress, has burst 



SHAI.r, WE FALTER? I47 

asunder, and is now seen retiring to the verge of the hori- 
zon, and if we are true to our country and our God, unborn 
generations will arise to hail our nation's birthday in the 
cloudless sunlight of Heaven-approved and blood-bought 
freedom. Sea-Weed. 

Ogdensburg, June 25, 1861. 



0l)aU m Jalter? 

WRITTEN FOR "THE ADVANCE." 

Though there are many discouraging circumstances 
around us which may occasionally cast a gloom over our 
spirits, and which may seem for a time to obscure the light 
and beauty which emanate from the immutable principles 
of Truth and Justice, yet those principles exist, and their 
influences will as surely be felt in the moral world as the 
rays of the sun in the natural, after the clouds and the mists 
have disappeared in the horizon. If the harmony and per- 
petuity of the American Union, the rights and privileges 
guaranteed by the Constitution to every American citizen, 
the Constitution itself, had never been assailed by rebels 
and traitors, never could we have known the value of the 
soil upon which we tread, the air of freedom we breathe, 
or how precious and beautiful in our sight are the folds of 
the star-gemmed American flag. Never could we have 
known the extent of the deep, burning love of country, the 
self-denying heroism, the firm and uncompromising princi- 
ples cherished by every true American and patriot, without 
an opposing element to develop and ripen into maturity 
those inestimable qualities in the breast of man of which a 



148 SHALL WE FALTER? 

nation should be justly proud. And this influence is now 
being felt ; the sword of treason and rebeUion is pointed 
at the very heart of loyalty ; the giant walls of the Republic 
are trembling with the hoarse, rumbling shock of a Seces- 
sion earthquake, and the unhallowed fire is kindled which 
would immolate the fairest temple of human liberty ; we 
are assailed by rebels without, and traitors in our very midst 
— still more to be dreaded ; yes, there exists beneath the 
shelter of the Stars and Stripes a species of insolent treason 
which " walks abroad at noon-day " and in " high places," 
the miserable result of human ambition and selfishness, 
which would paint its own inglorious name on tlie top of 
a pinnacle where the world might behold it ; but, alas ! in 
borrowed colors. The true merit of the citizen and soldier 
is being tested by self-denial and loyalty to the Government 
— the Rebellion is but the trial of our fidelity ; our cause is 
the cause of humanity, and all that is dear to us is at stake — 
a cause in which the united North is engaged, calling for a 
union of principle and purpose, of effort and action, 
prompted by an undying love of liberty, and fidelity to the 
common brotherhood of man. And shall we falter ? We 
seek no conquest, we invoke no foreign aid ; we arm for 
defence, for the protection of our homes and Government ; 
we vindicate the right of freemen, bequeathed to us by the 
sainted Pilgrims ; we defend the Constitution handed down 
by the patriots of the Revolution, standing upon the broad 
platform of the Declaration of American Independence. 
Shall we falter, when, from the shores of the Atlantic to the 
Pacific is re-echoed one long, loud response to the call of the 
Government ? When the fires of freedom are bursting forth 
afresh from every valley and hill-top, and the heart of the 
nation is beating time to the triumphant shout of Liberty ? 
When party names are forgotten in the general burst of 
enthusiasm, and the one sublime idea of transmitting 



SCRAPS FROM A NOTE-BOOK. 1 49 

untrammelled to future generations the blessings of liberty 
bequeathed by our forefathers actuates every heart, and 
while we witness one spontaneous "movement" in behalf 
of the " Constitution and the Union," and rank after rank, 
column after column, are marching on to the contest ? 
Soldiers of 1861 ! Shall we falter? Never ! " Our cause 
is just ! " is emblazoned on every shield. 

" Come, then, great shades of glorious men, 

From your still glorious grave ; 
Look on your own proud land again, 

O bravest of the brave ! 
We call you from each mouldering tomb, 

And each blue wave below. 
To bless the world ye snatched from doom 

Two hundred years ago !" 

" Eternal vigilance is the price of liberty ; " and until 
Rebellion is driven from the land, we adopt the words of 
Patrick Henry, " Give me liberty or give me death ! " 

Sea-Weed. 

Ogdensburg, Oct., 1 861. 



:o:- 



jScrapa from a 53'otc-Book. 

[Written for The Advance.] 

On a gloomy evening in April of 18 — , I was sitting 
alone in my room. Thestillness of the apartment and the 
murky atmosphere without had perhaps their full influence 
upon my sensitive nature ; but be that as it would, I soon 
found myself busily occupied with thoughts less congenial 
to my feelings than the solitude which surrounded me, and 



ISO SCRAPS FROM A NOTE-BOOK. 

though accustomed to looking at the brightest pictures in 
the great panorama of life, yet owing to the realities of my 
situation I had no control over the thoughts which intruded 
themselves upon my hour of meditation. I had alway.s 
been industrious and given satisfaction to my employers ; 
I had endeavored to be punctual, upright and honest, and 
now I had sought attainable employment which I felt com- 
petent to undertake, once, twice, thrice, and was doomed 
to disappointment. I had not only to depend upon my 
own exertions for a livelihood, but there were others dearer 
to me than life whom I felt bound to protect by every 
sacred tie. My means were nearly exhausted, and soon 
poverty would stare me in the face ! What could I do ? 
Where should I turn ? Those with whom I daily asso- 
ciated endeavored to rally my drooping spirits, and though 
I appreciated their sympathy, I could discover no mine 
wherein I might search for gold. Could I expose my 
situation to those whom I saw around me? My pride was* 
unconquered, and revolted — I could not. 1 had already 
received assistance from distant relatives, and forbore to 
afflict them by disclosing my sad tale of sorrows — my deep 
untold anguish ! I belonged to societies whose confi- 
dence I enjoyed, but my voice was silent — my heart beat 
heavily, and I inwardly shuddered at the faintest idea of 
making known the cause of my embarrassment ; and what 
was most piercing of all, I was connected with those whom 
fortune had favored with wealth, but who passed me by 
with only a cold bow of recognition; and why? Had I 
ever done anything to merit coldness or contempt ? Alas ! 
the sun of prosperity did not shine also for me ; I had tasted 
life's bitter cup and proved the emptiness of human 
professions ; I had experienced the injustice and cruelty of 
masked selfishness and hollow-hearted treachery. I had 
given no cause for such ungenerous treatment. I reflected 



SCRAPS FROM A NOTE -BOOK, 151 

upon my past life, but became the more firm in the opinion 
that the balance of account was in my favor ; I had cheer- 
fully responded toevery call, even at the risk of my own 
health and happiness. Was not this, my hour of need, 
the very time when I had a right to expect sympathy? 
But the return was chilling neglect, heartless ingratitude ! 
Oh! basj human depravity; how all that is noble and 
good in nature revolts at the developments of thine inhu- 
manity ! And were it not there are magnanimous and gen- 
erous spirits — that there are green and sunny spots in the 
garden of life — that there are fragrant and beautiful flow- 
ers scattered all along its pathway, the world indeed would 
be a desert, where the gentle and good, the fair, and the 
lovely could never dwell. But to return : the evening was 
\vearing away, the coals which had been glowing in the 
grate were becoming dim, and I was "about comparing them 
with my sinking hopes and unfavorable prospects, when 
the question arose in my mind — shall I, who have battled 
bravely with all the trying vicissitudes of life, give way to 
despair ? I who have faced death and danger, and struggled 
with the wild waves of adversity as they have rolled reck- 
lessly around me while the elements were in fearful com- 
motion ? I who have been so often guided by the cheering 
star of hope, and have learned to meet difficulty and disap- 
pointment, trial and suffering with composure — learned to 
control passion and to govern my wishes and tastes ? But 
I was unprepared for the trial of seeing those whom I lov- 
ed subjected to the iron grasp of poverty. No — I would 
not despair — T would arouse all my energies, I would make 
another effort, I would school myself to diligence and pa- 
tience, hstening to the teaching, " Let not mercy and truth 
forsake thee ; bmd them about thy neck ; write them upon 
the table of thine heart : So shalt thou find favor and 
good understanding in the sight of God and man." I arose 



152 LOVE, PURITY, AND FIDELITY. 

as if inspired by the thought, while I seemed to hear a 
whisper, " Prosperity shall be thine." Suddenly I heard a 
gentle tap at the door and the well-known voice of a friend 
inquired, "Have you seen the morning paper?" I an- 
swered I had not. *' Here is a notice of your engagement 

in ." Was it a dream? I took the paper and 

what was my astonishment when I beheld my name; — it 
was really so. I was overcome by emotion. I wept for 
joy, while a deep feeling of gratitude pervaded my whole 
being ! The heartfelt pleasure of that moment, far out- 
weighed the trial and suspense of the many weary hours 
which had preceded it, and at the same time taught a les- 
son of trust and submission, whicli might nerve the faint- 
est heart against apathy and despair, to move onward 
through the vast unseen future with a firm and even step, 
while hope, like a constant, brilliant star, through darkness 
continually points to a bHssful Heaven. 



Cot)c, Jpuritn, anb iTi^elitg. 

WRITTEN FOR A TEMPERANCE PAPER. 

When we reflect upon the vast comprehensibility of 
these words which have been chosen as the motto of our 
Order, we pause in silence and in reverence, as we recog- 
nize in them the import and teachings of the Sacred Volume 
of Inspiration, and the requirements of the Christian Reli- 
gion ; comprising at once our duty to God, to ourselves, and 
to mankind ; may they not be considered the true embodi- 
ment of human perfection, flowing, as they do, from its 
great Eternal Source, and in their nature partaking of the 



LOVE, PURITY, AND FIDELITY. 1 53 

same spiritual essence ? Love, the first of those heaven- 
born principles, has no limit, and can only be defined by its 
purifying effects as they flow out in the warm gushings of a 
noble and generous heart that is ever actuated in the cause 
of humanity, like the resistless stream that glides joyously 
along, diffusing life and beauty on either side, and charm- 
ing the ear with the music of its rippling waters. " Love" 
in its nature is as unbounded as the regions of space, and 
unlimited as the perfections of its Divine Author ; it spreads 
its influence far and wide, and smiles alike upon the home 
of wealth and splendor, or the abode of wretchedness and 
despair ; it is universal in its sympathy, unostentatious in 
its pretensions, and while it hovers over with the out- 
stretched wing of philanthropy, it would gladly encircle in 
its arms of protection every creature of the human race ; 
it delights in doing good, in assisting those who through 
misfortune or otherwise have become subjects of sympathy ; 
it throws its broad mantle over the wi'etched victims of vice 
and crime, ever prone to look with mercy and forgiveness 
upon the wayward and erring ; ever ready to defend the help- 
less, to advocate the cause of the injured or oppressed, and 
to snatch the victim of intemperance from the grasp of his 
destroyer. In short, it is that principle in the soul that pos- 
sesses it which actuates every motive and controls every 
action ; it is a part of Infinity itself, and to whatever degree 
we may possess it, so far may it be said that we wear the 
image of our Creator. And finally, " Love," or Charity, as 
it is sometimes termed, is a living, expanding, progressive 
principle, which is destined to soar on not only to. the final 
limit of time ; but when ages shall have rolled away, it will 
bloom and beautify in that abode of blessedness where it will 
be nourished and perpetuated in the sunlight of perfection 
which emanates from the Eternal Throne. " Purity," the 
second word of our motto, cannot be defined as a principle 
7* 



154 LOVE, PURITY, AND FIDEI ITY. • 

or an incentive to action, but as a state or condition, being 
an innate quality of the soul, and as such it is the germ 
from whence springs every pure and subhme thought, every 
high and holy aspiration ; it is a mine of precious gems 
v.^hich may at any time be gathered from among the rubbish 
of sordid and selfish passions, and which will eventually 
sliine out in all their native brilliancy and beauty. Though 
not an active principle in itself, Purity may be said to be 
the well-spring from whence issue those living streams of 
love and mercy which are continually flowing on and scat- 
tering blessings all along the pathway of human life. Still 
farther, to "Love and Purity" is added "Fidelity," form- 
ing a trio of exalted virtues, embracing all that is sacred 
and dear to the human heart, all that is great and good, lofty 
and sublime, in the estimation of every enlightened mind ; 
and which, owing to their own intrinsic merit, never fail to 
command respect and veneration, ev.en from the most 
degraded and vicious. But to speak more fully of "Fidel- 
ity," which does not comprehend the former virtues, but is 
strictly an abiding by or adhering to them, a carrying out of 
great purposes anti noble resolves, and implies self-denial, 
firmness, perseverance, and an energetic compliance with 
the requirements of any positive or ex])ressed duty, and 
takes its place high in the scale of mental and moral worth. 
Without " Fidelity " a good cause and good desires will 
prove futile and vain, and ultimately fail to accomplish their 
great object. It is, therefore, very important that we weigh 
well the whole bearing of the last and summing up word 
of the motto which we behold upon entering this 
respected Hall, and which speaks to us in the " still, small 
voice," yet silently, and which no ear can successfully shut 
out! reminding us of "Love" to mankind, "Purity" of 
heart and life, and " Fidelity" to the great principles which 
we have espoused. It reminds us that here the virtues 



HOME. 155 

should exist and flourish, that here fraternal and social ties 
should be cemented and strengthened by union in a faithful 
brotherhood, and that here we may imbibe those pure sen- 
timents and correct ideas which fit us for usefulness in life, 
and which encourage the hope of a blissful future after we 
shall have left this stage of action, besides being permitted 
to enjoy the pleasing reflection that our memory will be 
cherished with gratitude and respect by those to whom we 
are known. Truly with this motto not only shining out in 
golden letters among the symbols of our Order, but living 
and glowing upon the altar of our hearts, we shall not only 
be prepared to take an exalted position in society, but, 
standing upon the firm basis of refined morals and unsullied 
integrity — a sublime and natural result — we shall be guided 
by that inimitable chart and compass of human life, the Gol- 
den Rule. Then will our lives be characterized by Fidelity to 
the government of our Country, to its unrivalled Institutions ; 
Fidelity to the cause of humanity, and to the age in which 
we live ; Fidelity to ourselves and to our God. 



Is there a heart so steeped in crime, so dead to all the 
tender sensibilities that make life desirable, or that has 
grown so callous by contact with a cold and selfish world, 
that does not thrill with emotion at the sound of the little 
emphatic word " Home " ? No ! there beats not a heart 
in the human breast, however unfeeling and sluggish, how- 
ever coarse, neglected, or degraded, that is not awakened 
by the sweet, plaintive music of "Home, sweet Home," 
and, for a short time at least, wanders back to an abode in 



156 HOME. 

the distance perhaps, where every recollection of purity and 
virtue is centred around her whose smile was a precious 
reward for every little act of kindness and obedience, and 
who with changeless affection taught the youthful lips to lisp 
a prayer — or rocked to sleep her infant treasure. But pleas- 
ure or happiness is most perfectly enjoyed by that mind 
which is gifted with the highest appreciative capacities, or 
that nature which is endowed with the keenest susceptibil- 
ities. To such a heart the honored name of Father, Mother, 
Brother, Sister, Husband, Wife, has each its separate and 
social place in the home and heart of the others ! If that 
place be made vacant — it is vacant indeed, forever ; and 
here it may be remarked how vast are the responsibilities 
of each member of the domestic circle, possessing in itself 
all the resources of true friendship and social happiness, 
bound together by strong and sacred ties— as enduring 
as the laws which govern the moral world, and which 
should be cherished and revered as the teachings of their 
Divine Author ! And woe to that recklessness, which 
would attempt to sunder or disturb with envy or distrust 
any of those Heaven-approved relations. To one who has 
wandered far frpm "That dear spot, his home," and in a 
stranger land, care-worn and weary, disease perhaps has 
fastened itself upon his frame — and stranger hands are ad- 
ministering to his needs, though ever so kindly — how does 
his heart yearn for the care and sympathy of those whom 
he loves — the gentle words, the cheermg smile of some 
anxious friend in his distant home, and who, perhaps, 
would exchange every earthly treasure for such a privilege. 
Ask that one who, on account of some adverse fortune, 
has been compelled to leave the sacred protection of a 
home endeared by a thousand living ties — and who is de- 
nied the blessings which are found alone in that cherished 
retreat — yes, ask such an one, what is the definite value of 



AMERICA. 157 

the treasure home — and he will tell )-ou, that worlds could 
not buy, neither could imagination fancy aught that could 
for a moment be considered a just equivalent. How often 
will the heart "Turn to that rest like a dove to its nest," 
for here is stored not only the soul's earthly treasure, but 
its all of earthly happiness. Though the various duties 
and toils of life may call the wanderer abroad, yet with 
what eagerness he seeks again that sure retreat — his own, 
his loved and cherished home. How very important then 
that home be guarded by all the moral virtues, especially 
temperance ; no unhallowed breath should ever mar, no 
unkind word should find utterance, no distrustful spirit 
should ever be allowed to change or chill the confidence 
of its friendship. With what care and fidelity should wo- 
man guard and adorn her empire, home, with all that is 
pleasing and agreeable to eye or ear — for her health, wealth, 
and happiness ! yes, her all of existence is embodied in 
the short and simple word home, where in continual har- 
mony, Faith, Hope, and Charity should dwell, and where 
should be fostered the blessed hopes of a glorious immor- 
tality. 



-:o: 



America. 

From the records of the past we are led to the conclu- 
sion that the age in vV-hich we live is not only replete with 
brilliant achievements, far-famed inventions, and astonish- 
ing developments throughout the vast fields of science 
and art, but is destined to take its place among the bright- 
est eras that will be transferred to the table of time, or 
whose well-filled page of events will be transmitted for the 



158 AMERICA. 

consideration of those who are yet to appear in the great 
drama of human life. While the history of time has 
been dotted here and there with the rise and fall of na- 
tions, Young America has stood like a giant amid a host 
of contending armies ! Proud and ambitious in her youth- 
ful vigor — strong and defensive in her national rights — 
benevolent and hospitable to the exile and the oppressed 
of every clime. Yes, here in this garden of liberty the 
seed has been sown, which shall spring forth and flourish 
until the tree is matured, whose broad arms shall not 
only shelter the weary and oppressed, but extend over the 
nations of the earth, and whose influence shall be felt even 
to the remotest islands of the sea. Here, too, has the 
beacon-fire been lighted, which will guide the traveller 
verily to a land overflowing with milk and honey. For 
here are found, still in their primitive purity, the imperisha- 
ble altars once reared by the sainted Pilgrims, whose 
names, next to the name of the Pilgrim's God, the grate- 
ful American will ever cherish and love. And here where 
first were kindled the council-fires of the native Indians, 
are yet kindled the glowing fires of patriotism and liberty, 
which are destined to burn on truth's sacred altar until all 
national wrongs have been consumed, and right shall be 
exalted a princess before whom the Nations shall bow ; 
when her beautiful banner, without one dimmed star or tat- 
tered stripe, shall wave triumphantly over these northern 
shores, New England's strand, the fertile prairies of the 
West, the South' s fair land, then shall America take her 
rank not only as first and foremost in the onward march 
toward the acme of perfection in the arts and sciences, 
but first in the scale of civilization, first in the defence of 
equal rights, in proclaiming freedom for the oppressed, first 
in extending the blood-bought boon of liberty without re- 
serve, and first in the glorious cause of humanity to man ! 



CLOUDS. 159 



Who that has watched the clouds in their various shapes 
and attitudes in the vast expanse of ether, has not been 
impressed with the forcible illustration of the journey of 
human life. In the morning the)' seem more calm and quiet 
than through the day, when they are more frequently sub- 
ject to the whirlwind's power ; again at evening they appear 
to rest in placid beauty — so descriptive of Youth, Manhood, 
and Old Age. Do we not love to behold them sailing in 
the boundless ocean of azure, changing as often in color, 
form, and figure, as they do in speed and motion ; claiming 
their place among the beauties of nature, and displaying 
the harmony and order, the beauty and grandeur, besides 
the incomprehensibility of the vast machinery kept in accu- 
rate motion by the Divine Architect ? Is there not a lofty 
sublimity, amounting sometimes to awe, reflected from the 
cloud ? Even when the storm-king is reigning in the 
splendor of his despotic power, the dark and threatening 
aspect of the portentous cloud as it rapidly speeds along 
in its aerij^l flight, at times illuminated by the electric flash, 
and then dark as the gloom of a rayless night, carrying with 
it the solemn conviction that its Author could be none other 
than the Great Eternal ! But when the storm has subsided, 
and all nature again is calm and peaceful, the clouds seem 
wearied with agitation, and slowly sink away to rest, or 
skirt the horizon like a retreating hos*, enjoying the sweet 
peace and serenity of an evening sky ; then the spirit of 
beauty that walks forth in light is seen in the cloud — con- 
trasted with the deep blue of its airy home, making the 
scene so lofty, pure, and beautiful, that while we gaze in 
admiration, we often feel that the soul is made better by 



i6o RAIN. 

an invisible influence which arises from the contemplation 
of, and nearness to, the beautiful and good. Who can 
describe the glorious scene of a bright summer sunset ? the 
gorgeous beauty of the crimson and purple-tinted clouds as 
they wait in silence the departure of the king of day, and 
then deepen in the twilight, as if to mourn for the golden 
beams that arrayed them in their most becoming loveliness. 
And then again when the gentle moon has arisen to light 
up the vast amphitheatre of nature, and the light, fleecy 
clouds are flitting across the horizon in silver-like beauty, 
with here and there a brilliant star peering out through their 
openings, they portray a scene of loveliness and magnifi- 
cence unequalled by anything upon which the eye can rest, 
or the imagination paint. Diversified as life with smiles 
and tears, their variety is endless, their forms and motions 
are changeable as the motives and desires, the joys and 
sorrows of the human heart. Yet we weary not while gaz- 
ing upon the lofty, the golden-tinted and snowy clouds. 



Eain. 

The beautiful rain ! Yes, we have had a refreshing 
shower ! how welcome to the parched earth as well as to 
every living creature ! Who could enumerate how many 
thousand leaves and buds have opened into life with one 
warm spring showe*' ? Indeed it would seem as if the 
sprinkling, pattering, leaping, dancing, joyous rain had 
awakened peaceful Nature from her long winter revery, 
and reanimated her silent woods and gardens, fields and 
meadows, and brought with it the fragrant breath of Spring. 
What a contrast with those countries watered only by the 



THE UTILITY OF DECORATION. l6l 

river Nile as it overflows its banks ! Surely the productions 
of those African countries can never equal the bountiful sup- 
ply of ours. The foliage can never be so lovely, nor the 
flowers glow with such bright dehcate hues, or exhale such 
rich and fragrant perfumes. Methinks as we listen, when 
the air is still, we can hear the gentle working of nature as 
its quiet machinery is going on, with the help of the Spring 
showers and other genial influences, without which earth 
would be a barren waste. Yes, we will love the rain, the 
glad and laughing rain. 



Qll)e lUilihi Bf JDccoration. 

This subject, which is one embracing ornament and dis- 
play, gives rise to the question : " Why so much toil and 
expense, to accomplish that which in itself is only useless 
and vain, and demands time and means which might 
be appropriated to more necessary and praiseworthy pur- 
poses?" It is true that amongst all the works of art, 
a certain degree of the ornamental is discovered ; peo- 
ple adorn their dwellings, their shops, their persons ; and 
whatever their calling and pursuit in life, the signboard 
which characterizes it stands out in gilded and ornamental 
letters, an elegant display of the artist's skill. The Poet 
and the Painter alike adorn with colors drawn frem their 
own ideal world, but such is the fact ; our Churches are 
ornamented, the streets, walks, and grounds belonging to our 
cities, and the silent resting-places of the dead, are adorned 
with all the care, skill and labor, genius and taste, in rich 
profusion and ever-varying form, which thought can suggest 
or wealth procure. And why ? The question is a natural 



1 62 A SKETCH. 

one, and may easily be answered. In the first place, the 
wise Creator of man has planted within the soul a love of 
the beautiful ; it is incorporated in our natures, and can- 
not be subtracted from the elements which compose them. 
Besides, we may safely follow the example of Him who 
decorated the Universe, the beautiful heavens gemmed with 
stars, the green earth adorned with all that is pleasing to 
behold, the boundless sea, the lofty mountain, the singing 
brook, the trees of the forest, and endless variety of shrub- 
bery, the lovely flowers of a thousand colors and sweet 
perfumes, surpassing everything in nature and art, the 
gorgeous landscape and quiet scenery of a summer's sun- 
set eve, the cloud and rainbow clothed in sublimity, the 
birds of the air in hues of purple, green and gold, and all 
the endless varieties of objects in sea, in earth and air, of 
beautiful forms and dyes, created and decorated by the 
sublime Artist, we are led to the conclusion that it is not 
only right and proper but tends to the approximation more 
nearly to that spirit which emanates from the fountain of 
beauty and holiness. Cultivating a love for the beautiful 
will prove an effectual means of exalting the feelings, refin- 
ing the taste, and in short of raising the moral and intel- 
lectual standard of society. 



Ca Slatfl). 

Soon after the outbreak of the great Rebellion, which 
cost so much treasure in life and wealth, and desolated the 
happy homes of so many mourning hearts, two young Vol- 
unteers from a small village on the St. Lawrence went 
into the army. One, in the early morning of life, had not 



A SKETCH. 163 

attained his eighteenth year ; the other a Uttle older, in the 
first dawn of manhood. But did they go like brothers ? 
The younger, inspired with true patriotism, as high and holy 
as that which burned in the breast of the " Father of his 
Country," entered the Union ranks. The other joined the 
Rebel army. True, he had distant relatives in the South, 
but his parents, brothers and sisters resided on the bank 
of the above-named river — their home an elegant mansion, 
surrounded by broad lands, delightful scenery, and all that 
nature could lavish to please the eye or gratify the heart. 
Yet, strange it may seem, he went forth a rebel ! With no 
animosity toward each other, time after time, battle after 
battle, those warriors met in deadly combat ! What infa- 
tuation could have led that noble boy and that high-born 
youth to seek each other's life-blood ? 

At length in the dreadful battle of Ringgold — in the same 
hour — they fell, each with his face toward the enemy ! and 
possibly by each other's hand ! But their ashes will never 
mingle ! The grave of the young patriot was made on the 
plain, not far from Ringgold, where he sleeps with the hon- 
ored dead, the noble and brave. Wliile the remains of the 
other will lie in a costly tomb, surrounded by the rich and 
lofty ones of earth ! What a broad distinction, what a wide 
gulf separates those youthful soldiers, in the esteem and 
admiration of every lover of his country ! Both were enjoy- 
ing the golden prospects and glowing hopes that siu-round 
the horizon of life's young morning. Both were the pride 
and cherished idols of loving and devoted friends ; both 
were rich in intellectual treasures, and adorned with manly 
qualities of head and heart. But widely different were 
their chosen paths. One offered his life — a life so dear to 
himself, his friends, and all who knew him — a sacrifice to 
his country, that the priceless boon of liberty, the blessed 
institutions of a free and enlightened people, might be per- 



164 A SKETCH. 

petuated, and above all that this fair and beautiful Repub- 
lic might stand out before the world a monument to free- 
dom, without spot or blemish, entirely disenthralled from 
the blight and mildew of human slavery ! 

The other gave up his life in an unhallowed and inglo- 
rious cause, having for its motto, " Might shall conquer 
Right ; " that power consists in wealth of dollars and human 
blood, ignoring " Equal Rights," and usurping the autho- 
rity of the Ruler of the Universe ! And all for what ? 
To gratify the leaders in their lawless and unholy under- 
taking. 

Charlie, we weep for thee ! We seek not to hide our 
tears ; they fall for our Country's honored dead ; thy mem- 
ory shall be sacred to our hearts, while the history of our 
country shall remain. 

Sleep, soldier, in thy grave, 

'Till life's last battle's o'er, 
Then may'st thou join the brave 

On life's eternal shore. 

Tudlow, we weep for thee ! But let our tears fall 
where no eye shall behold them. We mourn that one so 
gifted, so beloved, forgetting every tie that bound him to 
his Northern home, should ever strike a blow at the root of 
the tree of liberty. We weep that thy grave may not be 
numbered with those of our Nation's honored dead ; that 
the Nation's gratitude may not inscribe thy monument, nor 
enrol thy name on the marble tablet of memory's page. 
We can only chant thy melancholy requiem — Farewell ! 
Farewell ! 



-:o: 



